


Drag Your Soul to Shore

by LinneaKou



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Curses, Haunting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Revenge, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 15:08:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21255338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinneaKou/pseuds/LinneaKou
Summary: Just before Katsuki Yuuri advances to his first-ever Grand Prix Final, the skating world is sent reeling when a stranger destroys resident champion Viktor Nikiforov’s life in more ways than one, resulting in him being banned from competing and gaining the hatred of everyone he knows. After a chance encounter in Sochi in which Yuuri saves his life, Viktor follows Yuuri back home to Hasetsu as the spring snows fall.But when Viktor is plagued by strange happenings and unnaturally bad luck, Yuuri quickly realizes that something supernatural is responsible for everything that has happened. The question is, can Yuuri save Viktor again, and more permanently this time?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween, have some angst!
> 
> For this bang, I was very lucky to be paired with Baph, who provided all the beautiful art you'll see! Check out Baph's [Tumblr](https://anonbaph.tumblr.com/) / [Twitter](https://twitter.com/boredBaph)
> 
> **Here come the content warnings**: this happens right away in the very first scene, but Viktor makes an attempt to end his life. That starts with the sentence "_Also, Yuuri’s no longer the only pedestrian out on the streets._" If you're sensitive to this kind of content, I'd recommend skipping to when Yuuri asks, "_Are you alright?_"
> 
> There is another mention of suicidal ideation, in chapter 3. I will have an author's note at the beginning of the chapter to remind readers. I'll be sure to warn for any content that may be difficult at the start of each chapter.
> 
> Before we begin, I would like to thank everyone who let me whine and cry at them over this fic, especially my girlfriend. It was fairly draining to write, even though I've had this concept in my head for almost two years now. I'm happy to have finally written it in its entirety, and I hope that you enjoy it.
> 
> Title from Icon For Hire's song _War_.

-

Winter in Russia is… well. _Cold_.

Yuuri knows what winter is like, it isn’t like Hasetsu and Detroit manage to skip the season when it rolls around, but for some reason the brisk Sochi night feels more oppressive and tense. He doesn’t like it at all.

_Why did I leave the banquet?_ he wonders as he consults his phone again. He's been wandering in circles for what feels like hours, searching for the hotel that he and Celestino have a room in. It feels like his sense of direction, which is usually fairly reliable, has been taken offline.

There’s a light dusting of snow on the ground, and the roads are wet. The sidewalk is mostly deserted, despite the fact that it isn’t actually that late at night.

Yuuri turns a corner and finds himself faced with evening traffic. The road aren’t packed, but cars still whiz past disturbingly close to the pavement. Also, Yuuri’s no longer the only pedestrian out on the streets.

He only gets a quick look at the other man before the stranger takes a slow, deliberate step out into the traffic.

Yuuri yells, but the man doesn’t respond. The cars are going too fast to stop or safely swerve.

_He’s going to die_.

Yuuri doesn’t even think about it, his legs moving without his input. He snatches at the man’s arm and drags him back to the sidewalk as a car screeches past, horn blaring. They both fall sprawling over the wet pavement.

Yuuri’s heart is pounding in his chest as he tries to breathe through the adrenaline high of running out into a busy street. He takes a moment to try and calm down before he forces himself to sit up, and then he glances over at the man he’d rescued.

His blood runs cold when he realizes that he knew exactly who the other pedestrian is. Viktor Nikiforov looks stunned, staring at him as if Yuuri has sprouted another head and started breathing fire.

“Viktor Nikiforov,” Yuuri stammers, because what else could he say?

“Why did you--?” Viktor’s voice is barely louder than a whisper. His fair skin is pale and washed out in the streetlights, and he has horrible dark smudges under his beautiful eyes. He looks both breathtakingly handsome as he has always been to Yuuri, and yet he seems diminished. Unhealthy.

“Stop you from… from getting killed?” Yuuri asks in confusion.

Viktor closes his eyes and hangs his head.

“Are you alright?” Right after the words fall out of his mouth, Yuuri wants to kick himself. Of course that’s a stupid question to ask.

Viktor shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me,” he mumbles. “Wasn’t thinking about where I was going. I’m sorry about that.”

Yuuri opens his mouth to protest, but Viktor is already climbing to his feet and walking away.

Something in Yuuri screams to follow. “Wait!” he calls, scrambling after the Russian man.

Viktor freezes, his spine straight and shoulders stiff, as Yuuri catches up. When Yuuri catches sight of his face once more, it’s in another expression of surprise.

“C… can I walk with you?” Yuuri feels his face burning with a flush. “I’m… lost.”

Viktor’s face smooths out, and he doesn’t quite smile. “First time in Sochi?”

Yuuri nods. “First Grand Prix too,” he mumbles. He’s not proud of himself at all, and who would be? He’d gotten sixth place, even with Georgi Popovich having been swapped into the Final instead of Viktor.

_Viktor_, who should have been skating at the Final. _Viktor_, who had all but disappeared from the public eye.

_Viktor_, who had just seemingly attempted to kill himself. And Yuuri was too scared to even press on that as they both trudge up the street, presumably in the direction of the hotel.

“You did very well in the short,” Viktor says, and Yuuri looks up at him again but Viktor isn’t meeting his eyes.

They walk in silence for a bit before Yuuri works up the nerve to respond. “Thank you, I guess.”

Viktor seems perpetually bewildered every time Yuuri acknowledges him. It’s so… strange in a way that Yuuri can’t quite put words to.

“I’m curious,” Viktor murmurs, so softly that Yuuri has to strain to hear him. “Why did your free skate go so badly?”

Yuuri sighs. “I… everything went wrong.”

Viktor laughs, a harsh little noise not unlike breaking glass. “I know the feeling.”

-

_“Can you believe it?!”_

Yuuri was confused at first when Yuuko called him up on Skype, ridiculously early in the morning for Detroit, equally ridiculously late in Hasetsu. She sent him a link, and that was when Yuuri found out about the skating world’s newest scandal.

_“The girl’s father is pressing charges,”_ Yuuko said, her eyes wide. _“I can’t believe Viktor would do something like this!”_

_“But… but he didn’t really do anything--”_ Yuuri protested.

_“Why would the father be going after him, then?”_

_“But it’s _Viktor_!”_

Yuuko’s face hardened. _“Well, maybe he had a dark side to him that we never knew about.”_ She sighed. _“I’m almost sorry I introduced you to him… I’ve already taken down the triplets’ posters.”_

_“Why? Isn’t he innocent until proven guilty?”_

Yuuko shook her head. _“Two people are dead, Yuuri. The world is full of monsters, and most of the time they make themselves seem like princes. We should learn from this.”_

“_Okay, but how did Viktor get them killed?_” Yuuri asked, frowning. “_Viktor isn’t even in America right now, he’s in Russia. How does Viktor have anything to do with this?_”

“_The girlfriend’s dad came out and accused him of it,_” Yuuko repeated. “_Placed all the blame on him. It’s because of something that happened in Skate Canada, I think. I didn’t think it was possible for Viktor to do such a thing._”

“_But what did he _do_?_”

“_Whatever he did, it got someone killed,_” Yuuko said, leaning back in her chair.

Yuuri looked up at the poster over his bed, searching the frozen face of his idol for answers.

Of course, none came.

-

When they enter the lobby, people look up at them. There are a few faces whose lips curl in contempt or disgust, and Yuuri feels rather than sees Viktor shrink into the shadows cast by the bright lights of the front desk. Yuuri glances back at the four-time figure skating world champion, and it’s a punch to the gut to see him wilting in the path of those complete strangers’ glares.

“Viktor?” Yuuri says, and Viktor looks at him like a frightened dog waiting to be whipped. “What room are you in?”

“I…” Viktor falters, like he’s deflating. “I’m not… I don’t have a room here.”

Yuuri blinks in confusion. “Wh--”

“I need to go,” Viktor backs out of the lobby before Yuuri can get a word out, disappearing out onto the darkened streets again.

Yuuri watches him leave, and prays that nothing bad happens for the rest of the night.

-

The rest of the season doesn’t go well. Yuuri begins to lose all motivation shortly after winter break concludes, and after he flops out of All-Japan, he focuses instead on finishing his studies and graduating with what remains of his dignity and self-respect.

He may not be particularly skilled in reading the future but even he isn’t dense enough to tell when the universe is throwing every obvious sign at him that it’s time to give up.

Phichit tries his damndest to keep Yuuri from leaving and allowing his coaching contract with Celestino to just die with a whimper. Ultimately, though, Yuuri is mature enough to recognize that of all of Celestino’s students, Phichit has the best chance of making the podium in the future. He wonders if he picked up on barely-smothered relief when he officially broke things off with Celestino, but he’s already in a deep enough rut that he doesn’t have the emotional bandwidth to process the possibility.

He leaves Detroit, diploma in the mail and the meager contents of his dorm packed up and sent ahead. Hasetsu is still there in the distance, and when he arrives home, he finds that not much has changed.

Well, that’s not true. Hasetsu seems withered, like a poorly tended garden. Minako-sensei confirms it when she picks him up from the station. She seems angry, not yet resigned, and that undercurrent is hidden under her genuine happiness at having Yuuri home again.

Not completely, Yuuri has always been able to read his old ballet teacher’s moods despite her best attempts to mask them.

They’re halfway to Yu-Topia when Minako finally asks the question that Yuuri has been dreading. “So. Viktor Nikiforov, huh?”

Yuuri doesn’t answer.

“We were wrong as hell about him, huh?”

“I don’t know if I believe it,” Yuuri said, staring straight ahead. He buries his face in his scarf.

Minako stares at him. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” Yuuri protests.

Minako huffs. “You can believe what you like. I’m just glad you never ran into the bastard.”

Yuuri bites down on his response that he _had_ and instead listens as Minako catches him up on everything he’d missed over the years that he’d neglected to even visit.

He hadn’t wanted much fanfare for his homecoming, and his parents had respected his wishes. Minako flips out at his weight gain, and his mother lets him escape to the shrine.

If there’s anything that he wishes he could have done over, it’s this.

The little abandoned collar hits him where it hurts, along with the old photograph of his smiling adolescent face as he’d held onto his beloved toy poodle. _Things had been so much simpler then,_ he thought ruefully as Mari let herself into the room, heralded by her usual smoky scent and what could only be described as a calming aura.

“You haven’t missed much,” she informs him. “All things considered.”

Yuuri hums, not able to tear his eyes away from the shrine.

“What are you going to do now?” Mari flicks her lighter, lights a cigarette so she can take a deep inhale. “I’ll support you in whatever you do, of course,” she adds with a long exhale.

Yuuri finally turns to her. “Should you really be doing that?” he asks, eyeing the cigarette.

Mari raises an eyebrow at him. “I’ll be fine.”

“People will notice.”

“They never do.”

Yuuri concedes with a shrug.

“So what will you do?” Mari presses, appearing bored but really anything but.

“You know I can’t do what you and Okaasan and Otousan do,” Yuuri mutters, his hands curling into fists in his lap.

“Bullshit,” Mari says blandly. “If you can learn how to skate you can learn--”

“Neesan, please.”

Mari raises her eyebrows.

“I…” Yuuri’s shoulders slump as he deflates. “I don’t know what I want to do.”

Mari eyes him and shrugs. “You’ve got time,” she says, letting herself out. “But in the meantime, we need a little help around here. Go soak in the springs, you look like you need it.”

-

Stepping into the hot springs is the final piece that he needed to complete his homecoming. There is absolutely no substitute for the onsen that he had been able to find in all of his travels, and the warm shimmer of energy that hangs softly over the springs like a mist is something that absolutely no one else could ever replicate. It’s soothing, like the smell of the katsudon that Okaasan would always reward him with after he medaled in Juniors.

Minako has already set up shop in the dining room, camped in front of the TV and tuned into Worlds.

Yuuri suddenly remembers, like a two-by-four to the face, that Viktor isn’t at Worlds. He hadn’t gone to the Russian Nationals or Europeans. It feels like an episode of the old _Twilight Zone_ show that one of his American rinkmates had made him watch on Halloween.

Minako coos over Christophe Giacometti and Cao Bin, and Yuuri hears her grumbling about him getting her their room numbers.

“I’m not a matchmaking service,” he snaps at her, and she gives him a baleful look.

The announcer mentions Viktor Nikiforov as the camera pans over Team Russia with Yakov Feltsman, watching from the stands. At this, Minako makes a face as Otousan pops out from behind the bar. “Nikiforov… that’s the skater you admire, isn’t it, Yuuri-kun?” his father asks.

“He’s a pariah,” Minako announces. “A wolf in sheep’s clothing. A _snake_.”

Otousan frowns. “What?”

“Nothing,” Yuuri says, cutting Minako off. “It’s nothing. It’s not important.”

Otousan looks him over, his face uncharacteristically serious. “If you say so, Yuuri-kun,” he finally says as one of the other patrons tries to change the TV over to a soccer match.

Yuuri suddenly feels stifled. He grabs his skating bag from his room and throws his coat on before running down the driveway past his mother.

“Where are you going?” she calls.

“Ice Castle,” he answers, and sets out in the direction of the town’s only ice rink.

-

Yuuko’s face is unreadable when he finishes Viktor’s free skate and assumes the final pose of the routine, his heart hammering in his chest.

“That was beautiful,” she says finally. “But… why?”

Yuuri shrugged. “I… wanted to remember what it felt like to enjoy skating again,” he says, coming to a stop by the boards. “And… this always made me feel better, learning Viktor’s programs and stuff…”

“But…” Yuuko’s mouth twisted. “Yuuri. You’re better than that.”

Yuuri doesn’t understand it. “Better than what? Four-time world champion Viktor Nikiforov? Even if he _did_ have anything to do with… that thing, you can’t deny that he’s also accomplished a lot--”

“I don’t want to argue about this with you!” Yuuko snaps as her daughters pop up next to her. “We were wrong about him. Just let it go.”

Yuuri drops it and then Nishigori swoops in to save the day, teasing Yuuri about his off-season weight gain.

Yuuri will take it over fighting with one of his oldest friends.

_“Amazing! Just like Viktor Nikiforov!”_

_“Viktor would do it like this!”_

He couldn’t have been wrong about everything, not so long ago… was Yuuri not allowed this? The simple things that made him happy when nothing else could? Wasn’t it his right to admire someone regardless of everyone else’s opinions on him?

He leaves Ice Castle Hasetsu more disquieted than when he’d arrived, and falls into an uneasy sleep in his childhood bed.

-

The triplets post the video of him skating to Viktor’s abandoned free skate routine, and it goes viral. Yuuri turns off his phone, unwilling to even glance at social media. He’s sure that some of the more vitriol-filled skating fans will try to tar him with the same brush as they’d tarred Viktor, and he doesn’t think he can handle that.

He busies himself with resuming his duties at the hot springs, helping his parents and sister with cleaning and running the business. His phone is left under his pillow on his bed, and he loses himself in the work.

His father tries a few times to draw him into the _other_ family business, but Yuuri shies away from it. He’s never had his father’s touch, or even his sister’s, and it seems pointless to try again when twenty-three years of trying had resulted in a whole lot of nothing to show for it.

It suddenly snows, unseasonably late, and after letting him sleep in later than he’s ever slept before, Okaasan sends him out into the courtyard with a shovel. The chore gives him something mindless to do.

He’s almost completely done when Otousan opens the front door and a blur of tan and apricot fur launches itself at Yuuri, sending him into one of his snow piles.

He stares in shock at the fluffy poodle panting down at him. “What?” he yelps, then laughs as the dog begins to cover his face with wet kisses.

“Doesn’t she look like Vicchan?” his father calls, waving. “She came in with a guest.”

“A guest?” Yuuri asks as the poodle climbs off of him and butts her head against his cheek.

“Yes, a handsome foreigner. You might be interested in him,” his father adds, raising his eyebrows.

Yuuri feels every drop of blood drain from his face. “Excuse me,” he says, blustering past his father and into the onsen.

-

It’s Viktor, of course it is. Yuuri skids into the changing room right as Viktor is slipping into the green jinbei that Okaasan probably gave him knowing _full well_ what it would do to Yuuri’s fragile little heart.

The thought of having caught Viktor in the springs… _naked_… Yuuri had to drag his brain out of the gutter.

“Oh, Yuuri.” Viktor gives him a small smile. “Hello, it’s been a while.”

It doesn’t feel right. Something’s off. Yuuri realizes he’s standing there in the changing room wearing his winter clothes, and everyone else is kind of staring at him. “Viktor,” he finally says. “Wh--what are you doing here?”

The only thing he can think of is the triplets’ video. He’s heard from Yuuko that people are still talking about it.

Viktor’s face falls, but the expression disappears almost instantly. “I apologize for my intrusion,” he says smoothly, a much more familiar smile twisting his mouth. “I heard through the grapevine that your family owned this establishment, and I decided to visit for a bit.”

“O-oh,” Yuuri says, feeling a tiny shred of relief. _It wasn’t the video._ “W-- did you like it?”

Viktor blinks.

“The springs,” Yuuri clarifies, mentally kicking himself. “Did you enjoy the hot springs?”

“Oh, yes,” Viktor’s smile doesn’t change. “They’re lovely. Just what I needed. Very soothing!”

Yuuri nods. “Th-that’s good,” he says lamely. “I’m glad.”

“You’re so lucky to live so close to them!” Viktor adds. “I imagine after a hard day of training, it’s a perfect way to relax.”

Yuuri shrugs. “I guess.”

Viktor’s eyes flick downwards, and Yuuri feels the urge to clench his puffy coat closed. “...have you been training?” the Russian skater asks, his eyebrows drawing together.

“Not really…”

“Hm.” Viktor chews on his lip as he ties his robe shut. “Well, if you want to be ready for next season, you’d better step it up, shouldn’t you?”

Yuuri’s mouth presses shut without his input, and he can’t find the words to confess that he’s retiring. Saying the words… that would make it real, right?

“I’m starving,” Viktor says, winking. “I saw a dining room on my way in, does your family serve food?”

“Ah, yes!”

“Wonderful!” Viktor claps, smile still firmly in place. “What would you recommend?”

Yuuri is starting to sweat from the heat and humidity of the room. “My favorite is the katsudon,” he says, scratching at the back of his head.

“Ka-zu--?”

“Ka-tsu-don,” Yuuri says slowly, and Viktor repeats it back to him. “Yes. Pork cutlets with rice.”

“Sounds delicious! And fattening,” Viktor adds, and to his credit he doesn’t glance down at Yuuri’s obvious off-season belly.

“Yeah, it kind of is,” Yuuri admits.

“Yuuri!” Otousan pokes his head into the changing room. “You didn’t finish shoveling.”

“Right.” Yuuri slumps and retreats into the hallway.

He doesn’t notice Viktor following him out, those warm blue eyes trailing him as he heads back up front.

-

When Yuuri finishes shoveling and goes back inside to warm up, he finds Viktor still in the dining room with Makkachin curled up at his side. The poodle’s head pops up and her tail thumps when she sees Yuuri, and Yuuri can feel something warm flare to life in his chest at that.

“Oh, she likes you,” Viktor says, and his smile is much more… soft. It’s a nicer smile than Yuuri’s ever seen from his interviews, and from all those photoshoots.

“I’ve always been good with animals,” Yuuri admits, shedding his coat and hanging it up by the doorway. “I used to have a dog, too.”

“Used to?” Viktor repeats, smile sliding off his face. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry.”

Yuuri shrugs, trying hard to not burst into tears all over again. It stings, having Makkachin just a few feet away in his own home. As nice as it was to get doggy kisses when he was least expecting it, it just reminds him of the gaping Vicchan-sized hole in his heart.

His mother rescues him with her timely entrance, balancing a tray on one arm. She touches Yuuri on the shoulder, and more warmth blooms throughout his body. “Thank you for shoveling, Yuu-chan,” she says, setting down a mouthwateringly warm bowl of katsudon in front of him. She moves to Viktor’s table, and sets down the other one in front of him. “Enjoy, Nikiforov-san!” she says in English, smiling brightly. “This dish is Yuuri’s favorite!”

“He told me,” Viktor says, flashing Okaasan a smile. It takes him a moment to orient himself with the chopsticks, but he manages to pop a bit of fried pork into his mouth.

His eyes go wide. Yuuri watches warily as he finishes chewing and swallows his mouthful down. “Is… is it okay?”

Viktor looks up at him, eyes still round. “This is amazing,” he whispers. “Absolutely delicious. _Vkusno!_ This _can’t_ be good for me.”

“I mean… it’s not?” Yuuri admits, already several bites deep into his own bowl. “But I’m glad you like it.”

His mother titters happily as she passes by with her tray now loaded with dirty cups and empty bottles. She’s beaming as she skips out of the dining room and into the hallway.

“I hope you’re not eating too many of these,” Viktor says, diving back into his meal. “As delicious as it is, you should be sticking to vegetables and lean meats.”

“I’m… retiring,” Yuuri says at last, stuffing another bite of pork into his mouth. “So it doesn’t matter what I eat,” he adds, his words slightly muffled by the food.

Viktor stares at him, and rice falls from his slackened chopsticks. “Please tell me I misheard you,” he says slowly. “You can’t be retiring. You’re so young!”

“I flamed out spectacularly the first time I was put under pressure,” Yuuri reminded him. “You said so yourself.”

“Yes, but… that happens!” Viktor says, jabbing his chopsticks in Yuuri’s direction. He seems horrified, borderline annoyed. “You don’t just give up after a few setbacks!”

Yuuri swallows. “Well, it’s my decision,” he says at last. “I… don’t feel inspired to skate anymore. And I was always mediocre anyway. There are thousands of other hopefuls waiting to take my place, and they’re more talented than I ever was. It wouldn’t be fair for me to hog resources when I can’t even skate a straight line anymore.”

“Yeah? What about you skating my free skate?” Viktor counters, and Yuuri chokes on his mouthful of rice.

“You saw that?” he coughs, clutching his chest. He feels like an idiot right away - of _course_ Viktor would have seen it. Minako has been haranguing him about it and the Nishigoris has been updating Yuuri on the shockwaves ever since the triplets posted it. Of _course_ it’s made its way to Viktor.

“I did,” Viktor says, raising his chin. “You skated it beautifully, and you’re not even in competing shape. And mediocre? Forgive me for being blunt, but if you actually believe that, you’re a fucking idiot.”

Yuuri’s face felt like it was on fire, both from Viktor’s words and the fact that he’d sworn so harshly. “I mean-- you’re allowed to think that--”

Viktor crosses his arms. “Did someone tell you that you were mediocre? Tell me their names. I’ll personally go to them and beat them up.” He sighs, his attitude deflating. “I can understand keeping yourself humble, that’s a good thing to practice, but you are _not_ mediocre. _Ugh_, I hate that word.”

“I… wow,” Yuuri says, his face still hot. “I… having you here in my home telling me this is a dream come true.” His brain catches up to his mouth and he claps a hand over his mouth, screaming internally.

Viktor blinks at him. “So you’re a _fan_, huh?” He smiles, a wry little twist of the lips. “You might be the only one left.”

“I’m sure I’m not,” Yuuri mumbles, fixing his eyes on the grain of the table.

“Trust me, it’s more likely than I’d care to admit.” Viktor’s face falls. He twiddles his chopsticks a little, and then scoops more rice into his mouth. “Well,” he eventually says, and Yuuri looks up at him. “I can’t really… tell you to un-retire, can I?”

Yuuri feels an odd tension unraveling in his core. “I… I appreciate it,” he answers. He looks down at his bowl, suddenly not hungry anymore. “I… it’s really hard to think of what I’m going to do from now on, now that I’m not in school or anything.”

“What’s your degree in?”

“Business and management,” Yuuri shrugs. It was a good degree to have. “A little bit of marketing. I figured it would be useful if I ever had to help run the onsen.”

Viktor looks around at the dining room they’re in. “It’s a lovely place,” he says. “There are worse family businesses to fall back on, right?” He winks.

Yuuri sighs. “Agreed.” He thinks back to some of his peers in Detroit. “Some of my classmates, their families lost everything in the last couple of years when the auto industry started falling apart. It’s kind of depressing.”

“That _is_ awful,” Viktor agrees.

“And… well, people say Detroit is a dying city, but… so is Hasetsu, I guess.” Yuuri looks up at the four regulars clustered around the TV at the front of the room. “More and more people leave every month. Kids can’t wait to leave this town behind and all that.”

“But you came back,” Viktor points out. “And I’m sure you’re aware, but city life isn’t for everyone.”

“No, you’re right,” Yuuri says. “I did come back, but that’s because this is where my family is. And… frankly, I don’t really care where I live. I don’t need much to be content.”

Viktor stares at him for a long while, but it strangely doesn’t make Yuuri uncomfortable.

“I think I envy you,” the Russian skater says after a few moments of silence, and Yuuri is shocked again.

“I’m sorry, that sounds strange. But…” Viktor’s gaze goes distant, his expression cloudy. “I… didn’t know how empty my life was until I lost my ability to compete. All my sponsors. My friends. I… I would give _anything--_”

He cuts himself off, and Yuuri can feel his heart clenching in his chest.

“Well,” Yuuri says. “I mean, you can…” He gulps, but something in him is screaming to push on. “You can stay here as long as you like, my family seems to like you already.”

Viktor startles a little, and the smile that breaks across his face is as brilliant as the sun. “I think I’d really like that,” he says, and Yuuri is struck with how beautiful yet _fragile_ the other man looks.

“Do you have a hotel?” Yuuri asks.

“Mm? Yes, I’ll be going there after I finish up here.”

“Where?”

Viktor hums. “In town, closer to the train station.”

“I think I know which one…” Yuuri drums his fingers on the table. “Actually… for all I know, there could be only one anymore.”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Viktor says, shrugging. “I can’t read Japanese, unfortunately. My linguistic capabilities have been stretched.”

“No worries. I’ll walk you over when you go there.” Yuuri thinks a moment. “Is that okay?”

Viktor laughs. “Paying me back for Sochi?”

Yuuri blushes. “If you want,” he mumbles. He’d been trying to not bring Sochi up.

Viktor shakes his head, still smiling. “If anything, I should probably be repaying you for that.”

“You don’t have to,” Yuuri says, blushing harder. “Please.”

Viktor studies him, his eyes unreadable. “All right,” he says after a pregnant pause.

They finish eating in a comfortable silence, and at one point Viktor falls asleep, curled up with Makkachin next to the table. Yuuri cleans up their dishes and helps with chores around the onsen, poking his head back in to check on their foreign visitor every once in a while. After a while, once things have calmed down and his mother releases him and Mari for some free time, he runs to his room to grab his laptop and then dashes back to the dining room. Viktor is still asleep, and Yuuri is careful to not wake him as he sets up his laptop. Makkachin opens one eye to watch him settle in, and then she huffs softly as she resumes her own nap.

Yuuri smiles, slips an earbud in one ear, and opens up his laptop.

-

It’s well into the afternoon when Viktor wakes up again. A few of the patrons have left, and the room is significantly quieter now.

“Mm,” Viktor says, stirring. He sits up, looking adorably disheveled, with his robe slipping open a little and drooping off his shoulder. “Oh, have I slept for too long?”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri says, closing out of the video he’d been watching. “It’s normal to nap a little after soaking in the onsen, actually.”

“That’s good,” Viktor yawns, stretching. “I haven’t slept this well in a while.”

“I’m glad you feel better,” Yuuri says, his eyes drawn to Viktor’s exposed collarbones. “You do feel better, right?”

“Oh, yes,” Viktor says, beaming. “So much better!” He looks at the window. “Oh, how late is it now?”

“It’s close to three,” Yuuri says, checking his laptop’s clock. “Are you ready to go to your hotel?”

“Yes, I think I’d better.” Viktor looks a little sad to be leaving, and takes his time changing back into his outside clothes. Yuuri slips back into his coat and meets Viktor at the onsen entrance. Makkachin dances around them, bounding in and out of snowbanks as they set out onto the streets, heading towards the downtown area.

“It may be becoming more empty here,” Viktor says, delicately. “But there’s a certain peace to this place.”

Yuuri breathes out, his breath a fine mist in the air in front of him. “Yeah, there is.”

-

“Please, repeat that,” Yuuri says, fifteen minutes later. He’s talking to the front desk clerk in Japanese, after Viktor had attempted to check into his room and the woman had barely understood him.

Now, Viktor is standing off to the side, looking uncomfortable. He has a hand in Makkachin’s fleece, and Yuuri is starting to become agitated at how any of the contentedness Viktor had shown throughout the afternoon had been sucked out of him.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the receptionist says, her eyes flicking to Viktor and Makkachin. She has a look of barely-contained distaste on her face. “I don’t have any reservations under Nikiforov. Besides, even if he did reserve with us, we have a no pets policy.”

“You’re absolutely sure?”

She nods, and Yuuri sighs. “Okay, what if I take his dog with me?”

“I’m sorry,” the receptionist repeats. “We do not have any vacancies here.” She eyes Viktor again. “We won’t for a while.”

Yuuri stares at her in disbelief. _Who’s booked all the rooms here? Didn’t I just tell Viktor this town is drying up? _“Okay,” he says finally. “Fine. Thank you for your time.”

The receptionist gives him a cool look, and Yuuri realizes he might be acting like something of a Yankee. He bows, trying to keep his annoyance from bleeding out, and turns back to Viktor. “Where’s your luggage?”

“I had it sent here,” Viktor says, looking lost. “It should be here…”

“Did any of his luggage arrive?” Yuuri asks the receptionist.

She frowns. “We haven’t received anything.”

Yuuri feels the bottom of his stomach drop out. “They didn’t get your luggage,” he says, and Viktor pales.

“I swear I sent it here,” Viktor says.

“I believe you,” Yuuri answers, and he takes Viktor’s arm and tugs him out of the hotel lobby and back onto the sidewalk. “Okay. We’ll figure this out. You’re coming home with me.”

Viktor is silent, and even Makkachin is quiet as Yuuri leads them back to Yu-Topia through the slush-covered city.


	2. Chapter 2

Back at home, they determine what Viktor has in his possession. He’d brought his passport, his skates, his wallet, a jacket, his electronics, and a baggie of food for Makkachin in his duffel. His suitcase with all of his clothes, toiletries, and other personal things is missing.

“This is bullshit,” Mari mutters after the third phone call to the taxi company that Viktor had used. “How can they have no idea what happened to that luggage?”

“Did you have a tag on it?” Okaasan asks Viktor, who nods. He hasn’t spoken much all evening, except to thank them for feeding him again.

“Here,” Yuuri says, pointing to the email on Viktor’s phone. He pulls it up and scans it. “Yeah, you did get a confirmation. What happened to it?”

Viktor shrugs.

“I’m sure it was a technical error,” Otousan says, patting Viktor’s shoulder. “We can straighten this out in the morning. I know the hotel manager.”

Viktor shrugs again.

“In the meantime,” Okaasan says, turning to her children. “Help me clear out the banquet room. We have a spare futon, Nikiforov-san can stay with us.”

“It’s not necessary,” Viktor says, his voice dull.

“It is,” Okaasan says, smiling. “You think I will send out Yuuri’s friend into the cold? No, that is not how we do things, in this family.”

Viktor stares at her, as if unwilling to believe her.

“Yuuri-chan, Mari-chan.” Okaasan claps her hands at them. “Come, let’s go.” She shepherds them upstairs, and Yuuri spends the rest of the evening moving boxes out of the way and helping Mari settle sheets and blankets onto the futon. At some point, Viktor drifts upstairs, seeming unsure if he’s really being allowed to stay.

“If you need more pillows, Yuuri has extras in his room,” Mari says, shooting Yuuri a mischievous look.

Yuuri glares at her, but is saved from answering when Viktor says, “No, this is fine.”

“We can make up a bed for Makkachin,” Mari adds.

“Thank you.”

Mari flaps a hand at him and pats Viktor on the shoulder as he leaves. “If you need anything, just ask us.”

Viktor nods, and Yuuri is about to follow his sister out into the hallway, but he stops in the doorway.

“Clothes,” he says.

Viktor looks at him in confusion. “Yuuri?”

“You can borrow some of my clothes,” Yuuri says, blushing. “I… they might be too small for you, but I have some sleep clothes that might be okay.”

Viktor looks like he’s ready to cry. “You don’t have to,” he starts to say, but Yuuri shakes his head.

“What kind of a host would I be if I didn’t?” He fixes a smile on his face. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

He ducks into the hallway and makes a break for his room before Viktor can answer.

-

The next day is dedicated to trying to sort out where Viktor’s luggage went, and Otousan ventures out into town in order to track down the hotel manager and get to the bottom of Viktor’s registration “technical error.” He returns home in the late afternoon, looking mildly frustrated - which means that the manager was either entirely unhelpful or downright obstinate. Yuuri is surprised that Otousan wasn’t able to charm the man into giving Viktor an upgraded reservation, as that’s Otousan’s specialty. He can’t possibly count all the times Otousan was able to talk people into doing things that they’d initially resisted even considering.

Otousan apologizes to Viktor for his inability to get him his hotel room, or even a refund - because the money’s definitely been taken from Viktor’s bank account, and even showing the hotel manager this fact hadn’t been enough to sway the man. Viktor just dropped close to a thousand dollars on a hotel room that had been given away before he’d even gotten into town, and no one is willing to return that money.

Viktor shrugs it off, and Yuuri is starting to become concerned at the stark difference from the way he’d been acting the previous evening. Unbidden, the question bubbles to the front of his mind: _how long have things like this been happening to him?_

But that’s a silly question. Yuuri knows full well when this has to have started.

When Yuuri finally gets sick of trying to get answers out of the taxi company rep, he leaves Viktor in the dining room with Mari and takes a break to retreat into the kitchen with Okaasan as she works on cooking lunch for the family.

“Yuu-chan,” she greets him, and hands him an apron. “Could you wash the vegetables?”

_Oh. I’m going to get lectured._

That was usually how things would go when Yuuri was younger, all the way up until he left Japan for college. Okaasan would let him come to her while she was working in the kitchen, and then she’d hand him an apron just like now, and she’d set him to a cooking task. He’d get going on whatever it was, and then she’d start talking about whatever was on her mind regarding him. “Lectured” isn’t exactly the right word, but sometimes it felt like that.

Yuuri takes the vegetables to the sink and allows himself to slip into familiar motions, waiting for her to speak up.

It doesn’t take long: “Your friend seems very sad,” she says, her wording very delicate. The layering of meaning is something else that Yuuri is used to as well.

“I mean,” he says, beginning to shuck peas from the pods. “He has every reason to be. His life basically took a nosedive a few months ago.”

“Hmmm.” His mother stops moving, her hands stilling entirely on the chopping board where she’s been carving meat into strips. “Tell me about it, please?”

“Okaasan,” Yuuri says, slumping. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Indulge me, Yuu-chan,” she insists, flashing him a gentle smile. She’s always been like this, seeing something wrong and immediately wanting to fix it somehow.

Yuuri bites his lip - so much of what he knows is secondhand speculation, it doesn’t feel right to repeat it - but he’s saved from having to answer when Mari pokes her head into the kitchen. “Minako-sensei is here,” she says, and despite her even tone, the expression on her face belays what a problem that’s turned out to be. “She’s in the dining room.”

_Oh no._ Yuuri drops what he’s working on and pushes past his sister, running down the hallway so carelessly that he somehow loses his house slippers along the way.

He bursts into the dining room and to his relief, Minako has retreated to the opposite end of the room and hasn’t done anything his mind was screaming that she’d do - she hadn’t dumped anything on Viktor’s head or tried to throw him out of the onsen, no screaming, _thank God_. She looks up and her eyes land on his face, and her gaze flicks to Viktor across the room. “Yuuri,” she calls, her voice icy.

Yuuri feels a sickly sensation filling his stomach as he makes his way across the room, worse than any pre-competition jitters or social anxiety nerves. “Minako-sensei?”

“Tell me you didn’t invite _him_ to Hasetsu,” she hisses, her eyes narrowing.

“I didn’t,” he says honestly, because it’s true. “He came on his own.”

“And you didn’t throw him out?”

Yuuri frowns. “Why should we? He’s a paying customer.”

“Principles!” Minako snaps. “Why would you want a patron like _that_?” She’s too polite to openly gesture at Viktor, but the way he’s watching them tells Yuuri he knows exactly what she’s saying, even if he can’t understand her.

“He’s been a model customer,” Yuuri says defensively. “My parents are fine with him being here, and they own the onsen.”

“Do they _know_ what he did?”

“What did he do, Minako-senpai?”

Okaasan’s voice suddenly ringing out startles Yuuri. Of course she’d followed him out of the kitchen.

“He got two people killed,” Minako says, climbing to her feet. “Two kids, dead, because of him.”

“That’s awful, but it doesn’t tell me much,” Okaasan says in a neutral tone. “Yuu-chan, can you explain more?”

“I don’t know anything other than hearsay,” Yuuri says quickly. “There’s not much of an official story--”

“Hiroko, don’t give me that!” Minako talks over him. “You don’t need to hear his side of things, this is very black and white.”

“I still would like to know,” Okaasan says, and then the air in the room becomes very heavy. “Minako-senpai, why are you so angry?”

Minako sinks to her knees again. “I just _am_,” she says, sounding very dizzy all of a sudden. “Hiroko, can I get something to drink?”

“Some tea, maybe?” Okaasan puts a hand on Yuuri’s arm. “We can get it for you. Minako-senpai, would you like something to eat?”

“That sounds good,” Minako says, still looking a bit dazed.

Okaasan pulls Yuuri in and quietly tells him, “Tell Mari that I need the calming tea. Take Vicchan back to the banquet room and sit with him.”

_So Viktor is already Vicchan?_ Yuuri just nods. Okaasan releases him and he immediately makes a beeline for Viktor.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he says, and Viktor blinks up at him.

“I should leave,” the other skater says, and Yuuri can see that he’s been biting at his nails.

“It’s fine,” Yuuri insists. “My mother is handling it. She’s good at this. C’mon, let’s go up to the banquet room.”

Makkachin is already up and pressing against Yuuri’s legs, and Viktor seems to be trying to think up a rebuttal.

“Viktor,” Yuuri says, and bends down to grasp Viktor’s wrist. “I promise, it’s fine. Let’s go upstairs.”

Makkachin whines, and that’s what does it for her owner. The Russian skater gathers up his laptop and phone before following Yuuri out of the dining room.

Stopping by the kitchen has him finding Mari already brewing the calming tea Okaasan requested. “It’s fine,” his sister tells him. “I figured we’d need this.”

“Thanks.” He ducks back out into the hallway and resumes leading Viktor back up to the room he’d slept in.

“I’m causing trouble for your family,” Viktor says as soon as Yuuri shuts the door behind them. “I should go.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yuuri answers. “You’re not trouble.”

“I _am_,” Viktor insists, and he bites so hard on his cuticle that it starts to bleed.

“Trust me, you’re not,” Yuuri says, and tugs Viktor to the bed. When he pushes Viktor to sit, the older skater collapses like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

Viktor looks up at him, and Yuuri immediately _knows_ that Viktor doesn’t believe him.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he says suddenly. “Along the shoreline.”

Viktor makes a face at him. “There’s snow on the ground,” he says in a measured tone.

“It’s already melting. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Viktor’s clothes from yesterday are still serviceable, and he has a nice puffy jacket that will keep most of the early spring’s bite away. Yuuri throws on some jogging gear and sneaks Viktor out the side door, taking care to avoid the dining room. They set out towards the beach, Makkachin at their heels, and Yuuri can see the tension easing from Viktor’s shoulders.

“I _told_ you that you were the only one left… possibly the only one left who doesn’t hate me, too,” the Russian skater finally says. Now, he just sounds sad, resigned to a foregone conclusion.

Easily disproved, though. “My family doesn’t hate you either,” Yuuri reminds him. “My mother is already calling you by a nickname. She calls you ‘Vicchan,’ that means she likes you.”

The shocked expression on Viktor’s face is heartbreaking. “She doesn’t even know me,” he says.

“Uh,” Yuuri can feel a heated blush creeping up his face, burning the tips of his ears. “Well, I mean… I’ve followed your career since I was very young--”

Viktor blinks.

“I… at one point, you were all I could talk about,” Yuuri comes to a stop, and he can’t seem to tear his gaze from the wet pavement under his sneakers. “So… my parents probably feel like they might know you well enough already.”

“That’s adorable,” Viktor says, and when Yuuri can finally bring himself to look up at his longtime idol’s face, Viktor is smiling. It’s another one of those fragile smiles, so small and soft, but it’s genuine. “Seriously, Yuuri, that’s really cute.”

“I named my dog after you,” Yuuri says before he realizes what those words mean, and he claps a hand over his mouth.

Viktor’s eyes go wide, and a dusting of the faintest blush settles over the high planes of his cheeks. “Wow,” he says.

“I don’t know why I said that,” Yuuri mutters, his words garbled by his hands.

“I’m… honored,” Viktor says. “Wow.”

“So no chance of pretending I didn’t just make a fool of myself?” Yuuri asks, pushing his glasses up onto his forehead so he can rub at his eyes.

“I won’t bring it up again if you don’t want me to,” Viktor says.

Yuuri sighs in relief. “I swear I’m not usually a human disaster,” he says, scuffing his shoe on the pavement.

Viktor laughs softly. “You’re not a disaster, but you’re definitely human,” he says, and slips his arm through Yuuri’s. “Which way to the ocean, again?”

Yuuri looks down at Viktor’s arm looped through his own, and can’t keep his lips from quirking in a small smile of his own. “This way.”

-

The next day, over breakfast, Viktor pipes up, “Could I steal Yuuri away to the ice rink today?”

Yuuri chokes on a mouthful of rice.

“That would be fine!” Okaasan says, not remarking on her son’s sudden coughing fit.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Yuuri says in Japanese as soon as he can draw a proper breath in. “I don’t know how Yuuko and Takeshi will take me bringing him over. Minako may have told them that he’s here.”

“It will be fine,” Okaasan says, smiling. “I’ll send some treats over.”

“Yuuri?” Viktor asks, his face an adorable moue of confusion.

“It’s nothing,” Yuuri says, even as his mind is racing. Okaasan is more than capable of dispelling most petty quarrels with her “treats” but this isn’t quite on that level.

They’d decided that Viktor would probably be best off sticking to the more private areas of the onsen, usually reserved for family, for the duration of his stay. Mari reported that after Yuuri and Viktor had left the property, Minako had stormed off and sworn she wouldn’t be forgiving any of them for housing ‘that Russian snake’ anytime soon. Okaasan had gotten a heartsick look on her face as she’d told Yuuri that last bit, and Yuuri was starting to wonder if maybe Viktor didn’t have a point after all…

But whenever that part of his brain started working, his heart screamed at it to shut up. And for once, he was listening to that part of himself.

“We can walk to the rink,” he finally says. “It’s getting nicer out.”

“I haven’t skated in a while,” Viktor adds. “Don’t laugh at me if I’m rusty.”

“Never,” Yuuri reassures him.

He catches Mari raising her eyebrows at him, and shoots her a dirty look until she stops smiling so smugly at him. The rest of their meal passes in peace.

-

Yuuko doesn’t meet his eyes when he walks in the front doors to the rink, Viktor following behind him. _So Minako did warn them after all,_ Yuuri thinks.

“Yuuri, what the hell,” Takeshi asks, crossing his arms.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Yuuri says defensively. “Come on, you two. He’s just here to skate.”

“Of course he is,” Yuuko mutters.

“Yuuri?” Viktor asks, and there’s that deer-in-headlights look with matching voice again.

Yuuri swallows and turns his back to his oldest friends. He grabs Viktor’s arm in a gesture of assurance. “It’s okay.”

“I… if they don’t want me here--”

“Viktor, I promise it will be fine.” Yuuri squeezes his wrist, and then digs in his bag for the box of sweets that his mother had pressed into his hand before they’d set out for Ice Castle. “We’ll leave, but Okaasan sent treats,” he says in Japanese, raising the box over his head.

The triplets, who had been watching silently from around the counter, all squeal in excitement.

Yuuko and Takeshi shoot him matching looks of betrayal as Axel snatches the sweets from Yuuri’s hand and the box pops open. “There’s five, enough for everyone!”

“I don’t think that’s appropriate,” Yuuko tries to say as her daughters all descend on the box like hungry seagulls.

Yuuri raises his eyebrows. “Should I tell Okaasan you didn--”

“_Fine_,” Takeshi says, snagging up one of the sweets up and popping it into his mouth. “Can’t refuse a gift,” he adds. “It’s rude.”

Yuuko rolls her eyes, and takes the remaining sweet out of the box. She hands the container back to Yuuri, and he sticks it back in his bag as Yuuko makes a show of eating.

All the sudden, it’s like someone flipped a switch. The adults shake their heads, like they’re trying to shake off some dizziness, and the girls swarm Yuuri’s legs, chirping in excitement.

“Yuuri! Yuuri! Are you going to skate again?”

“Planning on it,” Yuuri says.

“Uh,” Yuuko looks dazed. “No one’s on the ice right now, if you want…”

“Can I bring a guest?” Yuuri presses for what it’s worth, and both Yuuko and Takeshi nod in unison.

He’s surprised his mother’s box of treats worked, but he can’t quash the worry that it will eventually wear off. With that thought firmly pressed into his mind, he seizes Viktor’s wrist and drags him into the locker room to change into their skates.

-

They borrow the CD player, and Viktor hands Yuuri a disk to pop in. “Track two,” he says, and skates to the center of the rink.

Yuuri obliges, and is surprised when the softest voice pipes up - a boy soprano in Latin or Greek, Yuuri isn’t sure which. An undertone of a French horn, the almost twinkling notes of a pipe organ, the most delicate plucking of strings pepper underneath the singer, and Yuuri feels something swell in his chest as Viktor begins to move.

Yuuri watches as Viktor goes through an intense yet incredibly graceful short program, marking jumps and absolutely exuding emotion from every pore. It’s heartrending, raw, and absolutely stunning. Yuuri’s hands clasp over his chest, and he senses rather than sees Yuuko and Takeshi joining him at the boards. They watch in silence as Viktor finishes the program, his back arched and arms raised to the ceiling and the heavens beyond.

“That was… _beautiful_,” Yuuri says as the others begin to clap. “What was that?”

“The song is called _In Regards to Love: Agape_,” Viktor answers, sounding winded. He retreats to the boards, picking up his water bottle from the table that the CD player is sitting on. “There are two tracks by the same composer, two different takes on the concept of love. The other version is _Eros_, but I honestly haven’t felt any connection to it. This one has a stronger pull on me.” He took a long pull from his bottle, wiping his mouth as he swallowed. Yuuri couldn’t help but follow the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. “I was thinking of using it as my short program in the next competitive season, but… I’m not going to be competing.”

Yuuri feels a shiver run down his spine. “Don’t talk like that.”

“I’m suspended by the Russian Federation,” Viktor says, his tone matter-of-fact but his scowl betraying his true feelings on the matter. “I’m not. End of story.” He looks up at Yuuri, his expression softening. “I owed little Yuri Plisetsky a routine, but he won’t talk to me anymore. So…” He plays with the bottle in his hands. “I’m giving it to you.”

“I-- Viktor, I already said I was--”

“Yes, retired, I know,” Viktor interrupts him. “But… it would be such a shame for that routine to go to waste, yes?”

“Viktor…”

Yuuri is torn. He’s only ever had one dream, to skate on the same ice as - and be worthy of competing against - Viktor himself. Before, he’d come so close… and now it feels like the dream had been cut down before it had even gotten a chance to bloom. He hasn’t felt inspired in months, and he’s definitely out of shape for training, much less competing.

But…

“I don’t know if I can pull that routine off,” Yuuri admits.

“I don’t think you believe enough in yourself,” Viktor says easily. “I think you’re the only one holding you back from greatness, Yuuri.”

“He has a point,” Takeshi says.

“I…”

“You’ll have to get back in shape,” Viktor adds. “But… if you want, I can help you learn the routine. Are you signed with a coach right now?”

“No,” Yuuri says. “I let my contract with Celestino end.”

“Well,” Viktor rubs at his chin. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone competed without a coach. But if you’ll have me, I can serve for the closest thing to one.”

“Is that why you really came out here?” Yuuri asks.

Viktor shrugs. “Among other things.” He tilts his head. “What do you say, Yuuri?”

Yuuri is shocked when he doesn’t even have to think on it. “I… if you’ll help me, then…”

Viktor smiles, and Yuuri _knows,_ with bone-deep certainty, that this is the right thing to do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content warning:** Talk of past suicidal ideation starting at the sentence "_Viktor isn’t looking at him, his eyes fixed on the horizon._" Ends at "_And then I saw you skating_" paragraph after next. Yuuri's father also discusses it when he reports on his research into the curse in the next scene.

Viktor helps him plan out a diet for the next month, and his parents cheerily agree to it. No more katsudon until Yuuri starts winning competitions again, and it’s a little odd to be the only one in a sea of people not feeling confident in that outcome.

(But maybe what Viktor had been saying before had some truth to it; maybe Yuuri is too hard on himself.)

From then on, Yuuri wakes early every morning to go running with Viktor. They jog through Hasetsu’s deserted streets as the sun rises, and eventually Yuuri is taking Viktor on pseudo-tours of his hometown, pointing out places and shops that have been standing since Yuuri was a kid, and finding the newer places that had come in since he’d left for Detroit.

They run along the beach as the weather turns warmer, and it becomes easier with every passing day.

Yuuri makes the switch back to lean meats and vegetables as his primary foods, and starts weight training with resistance bands immediately. Viktor spots for him as he starts working on building his leg muscles and core once more.

When he isn’t working out, he and Viktor spend a lot of time at the onsen, sometimes soaking in the baths, but otherwise cloistered up in Viktor’s room. Viktor has days where he’s incredibly talkative, and Yuuri is regaled with stories of Saint Petersburg during the off-season, and Paris, and Vancouver and Bern and even Rio in one memorable occasion. Viktor speaks of these trips fondly, but there’s always a sad undercurrent to them; it doesn’t take much to guess that he visited a lot of these places with former rinkmates and competitors who are no longer talking to him.

Yuuri doesn’t press him on these details, but instead lets the older man reminisce, his words flowing around Yuuri like water in a stream.

One morning, on his rest day, Yuuri’s trip to the bathroom results in a very welcome surprise from the scale on the floor: he’s back in his competitive weight range. He grabs a measuring tape and finds that he’s managed to shed even the most persistent bits of his off-season tummy. He bursts into Viktor’s room to share the news, and that proves to be unwise.

Viktor has kicked the covers and blankets off his futon, and has taken to sleeping in nothing but his sleep pants as the nights begin to grow warmer. Yuuri is met with the sight of Viktor, sleeping on his side in one of the most compelling Odalisques (that was a term he’d learned in Art History class) he’d ever seen.

Yuuri tears his eyes away from Viktor’s chiseled abs and pecs, and suddenly realizes that Makkachin is pressed into the corner of the banquet room. “Oh, girl,” he says softly, and he sees her shiver so hard that her fleece ripples. “What’s wrong, Makkachin? Are you okay?”

She whines and bolts from the room, her nails clacking on the hardwood. She actually skids on the floor like a cartoon character, and Yuuri immediately follows her out.

He finds her in his own bedroom, and sees that she’s burrowed under his covers on his bed. “Makkachin,” he coos, trying to coax her out. “It’s okay, what happened?”

Her eyes are wide when he pulls the blanket away from her head, so wide that he can see the whites around her dark irises. He frowns and pats her head, and knows that something frightened her. Badly.

But what could have frightened her? She was shut in with Viktor all night.

_Viktor_.

Yuuri is already halfway down the hallway without even thinking about it, and he shoulders the door to the banquet room open again. He looks closer, and sees it - a dark mark on his throat, a purpling bruise on Viktor’s calf that resembles…

A bite. A human mouth-sized bite.

_Shit._ He crosses the room over to the bed and kneels down. “Viktor, wake up.”

Viktor makes a soft noise, but doesn’t wake. It’s strange, now that Yuuri is thinking about it; even on the rest days, Viktor usually gets up early and putters around the onsen until Yuuri wakes up and joins him.

“Viktor,” Yuuri says, a little louder, but Viktor still doesn’t respond. “_Otousan!_” he yells over his shoulder, grabbing for Viktor’s blanket to preserve his decency.

His father is at the door in a heartbeat. “What is it, Yuuri?”

“Something’s wrong,” he says as his father joins him in kneeling next to the futon. “Viktor won’t wake up… There’s a bruise on his throat, and he’s got a bite on his leg, too.”

“_Kami-sama_,” Otousan says, and climbs to his feet again. “Stay with him, I’ll be back.”

Yuuri stays, and puts a hand on Viktor’s forehead. The room is actually incredibly chilly, and yet Viktor’s skin is clammy. _Something got in here when we were asleep,_ he realizes.

He brushes the silver hair, sticky with sweat, off of Viktor’s face and waits.

His father returns after a short while, carrying a bowl and a large fan. The bowl is already smoking, and Otousan begins to walk the perimeter of the room, using the fan to push the smoke into the crevices and corners. Yuuri wants to demand that he attend to Viktor first, but he knows how these kinds of cleansings are supposed to go. You have to clear out the space, or all your hard work will be undone by an unseen presence, waiting in the shadows.

Okaasan joins them as Otousan is still cleansing, and she pulls a small vial out of her pocket. “Hold onto his hands, Yuu-chan,” she says, and he does so. She unstoppers the vial and douses her thumb in the oils contained within, and reaches out to rub the oils onto Viktor’s forehead. She moves onto his collarbone, wincing at the bruise on his neck, and Viktor begins to stir and grimace. “Where is the other mark?”

Yuuri moves the blanket and pulls up Viktor’s pant leg, revealing the bite on his calf. Okaasan breathes a sharp intake of air, and closes up the vial in her hands. She stows it away, wiping her hands on her apron, and pulls a different one out. “Here,” she says, and uncaps it. This one contains a salve that she scoops out with her fingers, rubbing it over the darkening bruise on Viktor’s pale skin. She does the same to the one on his throat.

“There’s nothing in here,” Otousan says as he finishes cleansing the room. He moves to the other side of the futon and fans the smoke over Viktor.

Viktor suddenly jerks awake, sitting up in bed, and sneezes violently. “_Blyad!_”

“Viktor!” Yuuri says, relieved. “Are you okay?”

“Where’s Makkachin?” his mother asks.

“My room.”

His parents nod and gather their tools up, quickly leaving him alone with Viktor. They need to cleanse and fortify the house, if something really has gotten inside it.

“Yuuri, what?” Viktor asks, looking a bit out of his own head. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the banquet room,” Yuuri says, rubbing Viktor’s bare arm. “Are you okay? We couldn’t wake you.”

“I…” Viktor shudders, hard enough to shake the blanket off of himself. “Oh. It was horrible.”

“A nightmare?”

“It didn’t feel like a nightmare,” Viktor says hoarsely. “It felt real.”

Of course it had.

“C’mon,” Yuuri says, helping Viktor out of bed. “Let’s go soak in the springs. It’ll help you feel better.”

“Yuuri!” Viktor seizes onto Yuuri’s pajama shirt. “Something’s wrong with me.”

Yuuri has been afraid of that. “It’s okay,” he says. “You’re safe with us.” He pulls the other skater into a hug and lets Viktor cling to him, long enough that Mari checks in on them and then leaves them be, all without a single word.

-

It’s later on, once Viktor’s washed the sweat of his night terrors off and sat in the springs for a while, that he tells Yuuri what had happened during the night. Okaasan hands him a plate and insists on him sitting down to eat it, but Viktor just pokes at the eggs and meat without taking a bite. “I’ve been having these dreams lately… of someone coming into my room every night,” he finally says. “A girl. I’ve never seen her before, but I know her.”

Yuuri stops eating and waits for Viktor to continue. He can hear his family falling silent, listening intently.

“She used to just stare at me from the doorway, then the corners of the room, and then from the foot of my bed,” Viktor says, laying his chopsticks down. “Makkachin is afraid of her, but she’s never done anything before…” he gulps. “Well, before last night.”

“Viktor, how long has this been happening?” Yuuri asks.

“A few weeks,” Viktor answers.

A few weeks, and Yuuri had had no idea. _Dammit_.

“What did she do last night, Vicchan?” Okaasan asks, kneeling down next to Viktor.

“She pressed me into the bed,” Viktor said, shuddering again. “Hands around my throat. I couldn’t move. She covered my mouth and told me I was the one who should be dead.”

“She’s wrong,” Yuuri says immediately. “Don’t believe her, Viktor.”

“I think she’s the girl that died when… in the winter--”

“It doesn’t matter who she is,” Yuuri raises his voice, and Viktor flinches away from him. _Shit._

Okaasan takes Viktor’s hand, and Viktor looks at her like he’s snapping out of a trance. “Vicchan,” she says. “Yuu-chan is right. She’s wrong.”

Viktor’s chin wobbles as tears begin to leak from his eyes, like a faucet that’s been unstoppered. He collapses, and Okaasan wraps him in a tight embrace as he weeps.

“Yuuri,” Mari says, and he turns to look at his sister. “He’s under a curse,” she says in Japanese.

Yuuri sighs. “Yeah, I figured.”

“What are you going to do?”

And that’s just it: he doesn’t know.

-

Viktor falls asleep in the family sitting room, on the old couch that’s been in the house since Yuuri was in middle school. Makkachin curls up on the floor next to him, and he sleeps with a hand buried in her fleece.

In the meantime, Yuuri and his parents retreat into the family shrine as Mari takes over running the onsen for a little bit.

“I’ve never seen one of these curses with my own eyes,” Otousan says, taking off his glasses so he can rub at the bridge of his nose. “I’ve only heard about them, or read about them.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Yuuri asks, feeling his anxiety levels rising.

“This is one of the worst, blackest curses,” his father says, shaking his head. “It’s like ill-wishing, but stronger. No wonder all of that bad luck kept falling onto him.”

“It would explain why his presence angers Minako-senpai, or Yuuko-chan and Nishigori-kun,” Okaasan adds, her normally smiling face pulled into an expression of worry. “He’s been branded with some kind of a beacon of bad intent, and it’s pulling all sorts of resentment and negative energy into him. It’s a wonder he hasn’t collapsed into himself.”

“I think he was close to it, when he arrived,” Otousan says. “I remember being concerned when he walked into the onsen, thinking he wasn’t well… I was struck with the image of a skull over his face. I think he was close to death that day.”

Yuuri feels something cold dropping into his stomach, like an icy wind has blown up his spine. “What do you mean? Like, something was going to kill him?”

His father shakes his head. “I didn’t feel that from him.”

_Oh no._ Yuuri feels numb. He has to sit down before his legs give out under him. “What can you do?” he asks, and he’s not sure what he’s asking of his parents.

“Yuu-chan,” Okaasan says softly. “I… I don’t know if this kind of a curse can be broken. It has to run its course.”

“What does that _mean?_ How can it run its course?”

“We’ll have to do more work,” Otousan says. “I can try and figure something out myself. Yuuri, you will have to help your mother in the onsen today.”

“Okay,” Yuuri says without hesitating.

“I’ll keep an eye on Viktor,” Otousan promises.

Yuuri lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Thank you,” he says, and his father pats him on the head, like he’s still the tiny elementary school boy begging for more dazzling tricks from the “magic bag.”

His mother helps him stand up, and they leave Otousan to his work in the shrine, shutting the door behind them.

-

Viktor wakes up in the mid-afternoon and joins them for a late lunch, and then suddenly asks Yuuri if they can go back to the beach. “It’s peaceful there,” he says. “I… would like to be there again.”

Yuuri looks at his mother, who nods. “It’s okay?” he asks.

“It’s slow here, today,” she says. “Mari and I should be able to handle it. And your father will be finished soon.”

His parents have been working together, both in the onsen and otherwise, for so long that she always knows when Otousan is finishing up his business. Yuuri has no doubt that she’s correct.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s finish eating first.”

Viktor nods and goes back to his food, seeming dimmed, somehow. As if less light is reaching him, shying away from his body and leaving a darkened void around him.

Yuuri can’t understand how he hadn’t _noticed_ it before. It explains _so much_.

-

“_Yuuri! Something happened!_”

Yuuri blinked awake as Phichit shook him, making his head rattle. He’d had an unsettling dream, but couldn’t remember it. “_What?_”

“_Someone died!_”

Yuuri snaps fully awake, grabbing Phichit’s wrists. “_What?!_”

“_One of the competitors from Skate Canada,_” Phichit says, brandishing his phone. “_The American skater, Douglas McInn_. _He died in a car wreck, along with his girlfriend._”

Douglas? Ah, yes, that’s right. He’d even competed against the California-based skater in Skate America. Douglas hadn’t really been able to keep up with his opponents, even though he’d been competing much longer than Yuuri had. That year had been his first time in the Grand Prix series, too. Yuuri hadn’t really liked the other skater much, finding him very entitled and rude. _“I should have been in the Grand Prix a lot sooner!”_ he’d say, looking around for people to agree with him. _“Ridiculous… the ISU doesn’t recognize my talent!”_

Yuuri shook his head. “_That’s awful,_” he said, and Phichit nodded.

“_Word is, it was drunk driving._” He pulled up a Twitter profile. “_He was drunk-tweeting and shit-talking Viktor on social media all night before it happened._”

“_Awful,_” Yuuri repeated, and Phichit nodded.

And really, what else could be done?

-

The sky is overcast, with a few sullen rays of sunlight breaking through the cloud cover. The sea is restless beyond the shore, and there’s still a persistent nip of the receding winter chill clinging to the air.

They find a steep sandbank to sit on, and Makkachin settles between them, huffing.

Yuuri doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know how to start. He just watches the waves endlessly roll in… Yuuri has always felt at-ease hearing the waves crashing onto the beach. It’s like listening to the sea breathe.

There’s the slightest sting of salty spray as the wind picks up, stirring up the sand in dancy eddies around their feet, before Viktor finally speaks up.

“I had more… private reasons to come here.” Viktor sighs and pushes his bangs off of his face. “I… didn’t want to admit it, but… Yuuri, I wasn’t planning on… living on.”

Yuuri feels his heart stop in his chest and gulps, trying to ground himself. It’s not a surprise, and that’s what making him feel sick.

Viktor isn’t looking at him, his eyes fixed on the horizon. “I was… feeling very badly, around Worlds.” He sighs. “I… didn’t have much to live for, honestly. No one was talking to me, I hadn’t left my apartment in weeks, my last sponsor cut me loose a week before the championships. I wasn’t… I had plans. Of ending it all.”

Yuuri doesn’t speak. He can only focus on keeping a tight hold on his emotions, but all he wants to do collapse into himself. If that had happened… _God, no._

“And then I saw you skating,” Viktor went on. “And… I just suddenly really wanted to come here. To you. I wanted to see you one last time. Because I knew you didn’t hate me.”

Yuuri suddenly knows what he wants Viktor to know. “I’m glad you came here.”

Viktor looks at him, and his eyes are shining. Distantly, Yuuri thinks _he’s an unfairly pretty crier_. He’d be happy if Viktor never had to cry ever again.

“I believe you when you say that,” Viktor says.

“Good, because it’s true.”

Viktor plays with Makkachin’s ear, and the poodle leans into his thigh. “I… Yuuri. I need you to promise me something.”

Yuuri feels a chill that has nothing to do with the breeze crawl down his spine. “What is it?”

“If… anything happens to me, promise me you’ll take care of Makkachin.” Viktor fixes Yuuri with the most serious look that Yuuri has ever seen. “She doesn’t deserve any of this shit. She deserves to live out her final years in comfort. _Please_, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s heart is in his throat. “Viktor, nothing is going to happen to you.”

“You can’t know that,”

“I can,” Yuuri insists. “I… Viktor, what’s happening to you is not your fault, and my parents agree. They can help you.”

Viktor’s forehead crinkles in confusion. “What?”

“You… my family.” Yuuri twists his hands into the hem of his jacket. “This is what they do. The springs, the onsen has been in my family for centuries. The springs are special, and generations of my family, all throughout the years, they’ve used the springs and learned how to fix things that people say are unfixable.”

“Yuuri, what are you talking about?” Viktor asks, frowning.

Yuuri takes a deep breath. “My family,” he starts over. “They… everyone has a special talent. My mother can heal people and influence people’s moods and emotions a little. My father can scry and influence moods too, and he uses it to settle disputes. Mari-neesan can read people and tell fortunes. They all use these gifts to help people who come to them with problems. The springs are sacred, and my family has been protecting them for as long as anyone can remember.”

Viktor stares at him. “What are you saying?”

“We… my family is like…” Yuuri gulps. He’s never admitted this out loud. “We’re like… rural witches, I guess?”

“Like Baba Yaga?”

Yuuri isn’t sure about who that is. “I… not really? It’s nothing flashy, it’s all very small stuff. We don’t really advertise it. It’s like the village wise woman kind of thing.”

Viktor’s eyes widen. “Your family?” He looks Yuuri over, like he’s expecting Yuuri to transform or something.

Yuuri hunches in on himself, his face heating up. “What?”

“What can you do?” Viktor asks.

Yuuri blinks. “What?” he repeats, because that’s the only thing his brain can give him.

“What’s your special talent?” Viktor leans in, his eyes still wide. “What can _you_ do?”

Yuuri sighs. “I don’t… I don’t have one.”

“You don’t?”

“Mmhm. I’m the family disappointment.” Yuuri smiles wryly; he’s made his peace with this.

“No.” Viktor makes a face at him. “You’re the top male singles skater in Japan, Yuuri. Your family has covered the entrance to the onsen with your posters. I see your face all over Hasetsu. You’re not a disappointment.”

Yuuri laughs softly. “I mean, I don’t have any… unusual talents. Anyone can learn how to skate, but not everyone can learn…” He gestures vaguely.

“Magic?” Viktor supplies wryly.

Yuuri nods. “True magic, I mean. Direct power. Not everyone can do it.”

“It’s still amazing,” Viktor says. “You grew up surrounded by magic. No wonder you’re so…” He waves his hand at Yuuri.

“I’m so… what?”

Viktor smiles. “Magical, I guess.”

Yuuri feels himself blushing even harder. “I’m not really, compared to my family,” he insists.

“You are to me,” Viktor says. “Your magic is in your skating. You dance like your body creates the music. You can make people feel things so deeply with your performance. That’s magical.”

Yuuri buries his face in his hands. “That means a lot to me,” he says.

“I’ll say it as often as I need to, it’s the truth,” Viktor leans into him, across Makkachin.

They sit in silence for a little bit longer, and the sun finally breaks through the clouds. Yuuri feels incredibly peaceful, warm even as the wind keeps blowing in off the sea.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says after a while, and Yuuri hums to acknowledge him. “I’m glad I came here, too.”

Yuuri leans back into Viktor as well. “Good.”

-

“The question is who, and how,” Otousan says later on. Viktor is off changing into the sweats Yuuri loaned him, and Yuuri is helping clean up the leftovers from dinner.

Yuuri doesn’t have to ask what his father means. “He hasn’t mentioned anything.”

“It’s an incredibly intricate curse,” Otousan says. “This wasn’t a regular person ill-wishing him, or an average magician. This curse was carefully crafted by a skilled spellcaster, someone who spent time binding everything together. Viktor surely would remember someone casting it on him, it was done directly.”

“I’ll ask him,” Yuuri decides as he finishes drying the dishes they’d used. “He’ll tell me.”

“I may have some bad news. I’m not sure if I should tell him what I’ve discovered.”

Yuuri’s hands still. “What is it?”

“Yuu-chan,” Okaasan says, putting her hand on Yuuri’s arm.

“The curse is meant to continue until the recipient dies,” Otousan says, and when Yuuri looks up, he can see the sorrowful expression on his father’s face. “It’s meant to encourage the recipient to… make it happen themselves. It’s a blood curse, Yuuri.”

“Who the fuck would curse someone like that?” Mari wonders, her voice sharp with anger. Yuuri has never heard her this heated before.

“I… someone affected by that American skater’s death,” Yuuri says. “Viktor thinks it’s connected. Everything started after Douglas died.”

“Tell us what happened with that,” Okaasan says.

“Not much to tell,” Yuuri answers, leaning onto his elbows and setting aside the dishtowel he’d been using. “Viktor competed against Douglas in Skate Canada, and Douglas did horribly. Viktor took gold and Douglas placed really low. Viktor went on to the Trophee de France, and Douglas was eliminated from the Grand Prix series. He blamed Viktor and favoritism towards Russian skaters for his loss, went on tons of rants on social media, and wouldn’t listen to anyone about it.”

“Sounds like a sore loser,” Mari says.

“He’s always been like that. He got mad at me for beating him in Skate America and said that all Japanese skaters get preferential treatment from the ISU.”

“Ah, one of those,” Otousan doesn’t scoff, his neutral expression doesn’t change, but Yuuri can sense his disdain no matter how well he hides it.

“So right around the time that the cup in Moscow was going on, Douglas was out with his girlfriend and got very drunk.”

His family winces in unison. They know where this is going.

“Drunk driving is a real problem in America,” Yuuri mumbles. “Three students that I knew from classes died in drunk driving accidents during the time I was going to school in Detroit.”

“Those poor souls,” Okaasan says, her hand over her heart.

“So Douglas and his girlfriend, I don’t know her name, they got in a car wreck and both died instantly,” Yuuri says, running his hand through his hair. “And then the girlfriend’s father publicly accused Viktor of causing the accident, and everyone turned on him. He was kept from competing in France and then kicked off of the roster.”

“The father,” Mari says. “The girlfriend’s father. Who is he?”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri answers. “It’s weird, all the articles I’ve read go out of their way to not mention his name.”

“That makes me think he’s using some kind of concealment,” Mari muses. “Tousan is right, he’s got to be an experienced practitioner.”

“Why were we immune to it?” Yuuri asks.

“We all have lived our lives surrounded by the power of the springs,” Okaasan says. “It’s like a natural immunity, I think.”

That makes sense. Except…

“But Minako-sensei? Yuuko-chan and Nishigori-kun?” Yuuri thinks back to the reactions he’d seen to Viktor’s being in Hasetsu. “They’ve been around the hot springs too…”

“They don’t live on top of them, Yuuri,” Mari reminds him. “How many times have you had to help me scrub out a bath? I agree with Kaasan, the springs have protected us from a lot of outside influences.” She taps the box of cigarettes in her pocket for emphasis.

“Okay. So we need to find out who put the curse on Viktor, and know it for sure,” Yuuri says. “Because we can’t say it was definitely the girlfriend’s father--”

Something clatters to the floor in the distance, and Yuuri hears a cry of pain.

They all put down what they were doing and hurry out into the hallway. Okaasan gets to the bathroom first, and raps on the door. “Vicchan, are you okay?”

The door slides open, and Viktor peers out at them in confusion. “It’s nothing,” he says, seeming embarrassed. “I just. My back started burning suddenly, and I dropped what I was holding.”

“Burning?” Okaasan repeats, then tugs him out into the hallway. “Vicchan, please let me see your back.”

Viktor’s frown deepens, but he pulls the sleep shirt over his head and lets Okaasan peer at his back.

“Oh, dear,” she murmurs, and Yuuri gets a look. He can’t help but gasp.

Three long scratches, angry-looking and surrounded by inflamed skin, cross the planes of Viktor’s back.

“I thought we cleared out the house,” Mari says. “Nothing should be able to get in.”

“The curse,” Otousan says under his breath. “It might be beyond what I can prevent.”

Everything fades away as Viktor looks at them each in even more pronounced confusion - he doesn’t understand them at all - and all Yuuri wants to do is scream and run outside, and just keep running.

_This is what being helpless feels like,_ he thinks as Okaasan has Viktor sit down on the closed toilet and runs to get her healing salve. _And I hate it._

-

Yuuri is laying awake in his bed that night when there’s a soft knock on his door. He’s not surprised when Viktor and Makkachin tumble into his bedroom, Viktor clutching a pillow.

“I… the room gets cold, before… _she_ comes in,” he says, looking around, and Yuuri belatedly remembers that he hasn’t taken down all of his posters yet.

“She, as in the ghost?” Yuuri asks, because it’s too late now and Viktor already knows that Yuuri has been an embarrassingly obsessive fanboy for years now. In any other situation, he’d be panicking.

“Yes. The room just got cold.” Viktor looks him right in the eye and suddenly seems ashamed. “I’m sorry, I’m being ridiculous,” he says, hanging his head and making to edge back into the hallway.

Yuuri seizes the other skater’s wrist and pulls him back in, shutting the door behind him. “No, it’s fine,” he says, thankful for the darkness that’s hiding his flaming blush.

“I don’t want to intrude--”

“You’re not.” Yuuri pulls Viktor towards the bed, where Makkachin is already curled up. Between the fully-grown standard poodle and the two tall adult athletes, there is _no_ way they’ll all fit in Yuuri’s childhood bed.

Easy solution: Yuuri pushes Viktor to sit on his bed and then crosses his bedroom to open his closet. He finds the old camping futon shoved all the way in the back of the closet, tightly rolled up. It’s still not too big, but it’ll do.

Yuuri unrolls it right next to the bed, leaving enough space to walk between, and grabs one of the blankets off of the foot of the bed. “You take the bed,” he says. “Makkachin is already settled.”

“You’re the one skating tomorrow,” Viktor protests, but Yuuri shakes his head and picks up his pillow, dropping it onto the futon.

“You haven’t been sleeping well, right?” Yuuri raps his knuckles against his head. “I can sleep anywhere, it’s fine. Just take the bed, Viktor.”

“She’ll find me in here,” Viktor says softly.

“I can handle her,” Yuuri answers, trying to smile reassuringly.

Viktor seems unconvinced, but allows Yuuri to coax him back down onto the bed.

An idea pops into his head, and Yuuri backs out of the room, whispering “just wait for a minute, I’ll be right back,” before he runs down the hall to the bathroom. There’s a small clear plastic cup that Yuuri uses to rinse his mouth after brushing his teeth, and he fills it with water from the tap.

The night is still chilly, and Yuuri shivers as he slips outside to the private garden that Okaasan keeps to the side of the courtyard. He scours his memory until he recalls the flower he’s looking for, and plucks one off of the bush.

There’s a reason that this garden is kept from the public, because there is no way these flowers should be blooming outside of a hothouse. Yuuri can’t recall the name of this particular blossom, but it smells wonderful and has bloomed widely, even as the bud is so small in his palm.

He picks up the cup of water from the bathroom, and carries both the cup and the flower back to his room, edging the door open with his foot. Viktor is still sitting up in Yuuri’s bed, and he watches in confusion as Yuuri kneels down in the doorway and places the cup on the floor right outside of his room.

Yuuri settles the blossom onto the surface of the water, and it bobs at the top of the glass. Satisfied, Yuuri shuts his bedroom door and shoots Viktor a smile. “That’s an old trick my mother taught me,” he explains. “It will keep unwanted visitors from crossing my doorstep.”

“Can’t they come in through other means?” Viktor asks.

Yuuri shakes his head and leans across Viktor to pull up the shades to his window. “My father carved these into the window frame,” he explains, pointing to the protective script in the corners. “Those are the only two ways into this room. Nothing will get in, I promise.”

He can see the moment Viktor relaxes. “I’m so glad you know all of these things,” the other skater murmurs, his Russian accent starting to slur his words.

“I don’t know as much as my parents,” Yuuri says, edging off of the bed. Viktor whines as Yuuri draws away, getting the camping bed set up for himself, but when Yuuri glances back at him, Viktor has curled up around Makkachin and has already fallen asleep.

Yuuri smiles to himself as he gets comfortable on the camping bed, tugging his blanket tighter around himself as he drifts off into a dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case anyone is sensitive to it, there is mention of illness and vomiting in this chapter.

The Nishigori family doesn’t protest Viktor accompanying Yuuri to the rink the following day. Part of it is his mother’s influence - this time, she sent a thermos of tea brewed from her personal stores. The triplets don’t seem to mind as much as their parents do, and watch eagerly as both of them take to the ice for the first time since Viktor showed them his short program.

They’d already gone over the program components while Yuuri had been training away his off-season pudge, and Yuuri is torn between two emotions.

First: he feels bad that he’s taking this beautiful, _glorious_ short program from Viktor. It shouldn’t be him learning these sequences and practicing these jumps to this music, it feels wrong. But Viktor can’t compete, and who else would skate this? Yuuri really should be grateful that Viktor thinks him worthy of such a masterpiece.

Except… he’s not.

Second: this is the most difficult program he’s ever tackled, and even with all of his prep and training, just practicing bits of _Agape_ over and over takes a lot out of him. He’s not sure he’s up to this.

That morning, Viktor starts him off easy, not speaking much except to offer advice for whatever’s giving Yuuri trouble. He mostly stays to the side, watching as Yuuri attempts to muddle through what he’s memorized of the program components, trying to master one part before moving onto another. Viktor declares himself a resource, willing to help in whatever way Yuuri needs.

Problem is - and Yuuri is well aware of this - Yuuri doesn’t ask for help often. Because, as Phichit very helpfully once put it, _he’s a stubborn ass._ So he keeps falling and slamming into the ice, or smacking into the boards once in a while, or just not _getting_ this or that or the other. After a few days of trying to be a passive aide, Viktor snaps.

“No, stop working on that Sal,” he says, and everyone jumps in surprise as he skates out to Yuuri, easily stopping him from trying to work on the jump combination again. “You’re getting frustrated and you’ll never manage it if you keep this up. Move onto the next step sequence.”

“I already have that down,” Yuuri protests.

“Yes, and your step sequences are a work of art. Cool down with the components you know well, and remind yourself that you _do_ know how to do this. Then take a water break.”

“But--”

“Please,” Viktor adds, and Yuuri finds his argument dying in his throat.

Instead, he nods and skates a little bit away before going into the step sequence Viktor indicated. After about half an hour of unsuccessful jumps, it’s a relief to do something he _does_ actually know well.

He comes to a stop when he hears Viktor clapping, a small smile on his face.

“See? No reason to be frustrated, this is just the beginning. This will take time, and that’s fine.” He stretches out a hand. “C’mon, Yuuri, water break.”

Yuuri’s heart stutters in his chest that has nothing to do with the aerobic activity he’d been doing. Instead, he just nods silently and rejoins Viktor by the stereo. They spend hours at the deserted ice rink until Yuuri realizes that the sun is starting to set and he’s actually starving.

They go back to the onsen, and Yuuri practically falls into the springs to soothe his sore body. It’s only his aching stomach that gets him back out to eat and go to bed, so he can do it all over again the next day.

-

That night, Yuuri isn’t surprised to find Viktor following him into his bedroom.

“I… slept better last night than I have in the past several months,” Viktor admits as Yuuri lets them in, Makkachin bounding past them to pounce on Yuuri’s bed. “No nightmares, no dreams at all.”

“That’s good,” Yuuri says, and has to wonder at how his heart is racing. This isn’t the first time Viktor’s slept in Yuuri’s room instead of the loaned banquet room. Why is he so jazzed up?

“I insist you take your bed,” Viktor adds, and to prove his point, he claims the camping bed by plunking down onto it.

Yuuri frowns at him. “You’re the guest here, Viktor.”

“And you’re the competing athlete,” Viktor sings back at him, more spirited than Yuuri’s ever seen him. He kicks off his house slippers and then strips off his sweatshirt.

The bruise on his throat is healing nicely, Yuuri notes. And _only_ that, because he can’t afford to think about how much his pulse speeds up when his eyes sweep over Viktor’s absolutely sculpted chest and shoulders.

“If you wake up with aches, we’re coming up with a different arrangement,” he stutters out instead, and moves to turn off the lights. Viktor hums in agreement as Yuuri climbs under his bedcovers.

Makkachin has already spread out over much of the mattress, so Yuuri is left with a small sliver along the side for himself. He doesn’t mind in the least.

-

“Today, I think we will work on your jumps,” Viktor says at breakfast the next day. He seems fairly refreshed, and hasn’t reported any problems in the night, so Yuuri is pretty contented as he tucks into his rice and vegetables.

Viktor accepts his own bowl from Mari and picks up a mouthful for himself, but he freezes as soon as he pops it into his mouth.

“Viktor?” Yuuri says, frowning. “Is something wrong?”

“Mm,” Viktor swallows. “Actually, I’m sorry, but this tastes a bit off. Doesn’t it?”

Yuuri blinks and scoops up some rice from Viktor’s bowl. He sniffs it before eating, but he doesn’t smell or taste anything strange. “No, it doesn’t.”

“It tastes… I don’t know?” Viktor frowns at the bowl, sitting innocently on the table in front of him. “I’m sorry, I must be losing my mind.” He winks and tugs his breakfast back towards him.

Yuuri watches him for a few minutes, but he gives no indication of anything else happening. He even finishes his serving before Yuuri, and is up and moving before Yuuri can catch up. “C’mon, no lollygagging!” he sings out, disappearing into the hallway with Makkachin at his heels. “Let’s go skating, Yuu-riiiii!”

There’s a gust of wind let loose into the house as Viktor lets himself out the front door, and Yuuri is left scrambling to shove more food into his mouth before Viktor leaves without him.

-

“Take a breather,” Viktor says, pausing the music. “You’ve been working hard, catch your breath. I need to run to the restroom.” He skates over to the opening in the board and slips his blade guards onto his skates, striding away without even switching out his shoes.

Yuuri takes the opportunity to down half his water bottle. _Agape_ is kicking his ass, and he’s wondering if Viktor is really human after all - how else could he make such a difficult program look so effortless?

He waits for Viktor to come back, stretching out his back and shoulders, and the minutes creep by. He’s getting worried when Lutz runs into the rink, her eyes wide.

“Viktor is getting sick in the bathroom, Yuuri!”

Yuuri is off the ice in a flash, his skates unlaced before he can even register what he’s doing. He doesn’t even put on his shoes, instead running in socked feet through the hallway and bursting into the men’s room.

He can hear the sound of retching the moment the door is open, and he easily finds Viktor in the nearest stall. Nishigori is standing nearby, and he seems vaguely concerned. “Figured you’d want to know,” he says, and there’s a note of confusion in his voice. “You got this?”

“Sure,” Yuuri says, and Nishigori leaves him to kneel down in the stall next to Viktor, who is curled over the toilet bowl.

“What happened?” Yuuri asks, rubbing between Viktor’s shoulder blades.

“Felt sick,” Viktor says, coughing weakly. “Thought stomach was just a little upset, but it started coming up.” He tenses, and Yuuri can feel a shudder move him as he heaves again, but nothing comes out. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Yuuri says. “Let’s get you back home.”

“No, you need to practice,” Viktor argues, but the effect is weakened by how pale his lips have become.

“I’ll be fine,” Yuuri says, and grabs a handful of tissues from Viktor’s jacket pocket to wipe off Viktor’s mouth. “C’mon, you think you can stand?”

“Maybe.”

Yuuri ends up settling Viktor against the wall and bringing him water in a paper cup so he can gargle and swish it in his mouth. Viktor leans heavily on him as he spits into the sink, and his grip on Yuuri’s shoulder is shaky.

Yuuri calls Mari to drive out and pick them up, because he’s not willing to make Viktor walk all the way back to the onsen. While they’re waiting for their ride, Yuuri enlists Yuuko to help him gather up their things and repack their skate bags.

“I hope whatever he’s caught isn’t contagious,” she says.

“It’s not,” Yuuri says, because he’s pretty sure he knows why Viktor is suddenly ill.

“Still. I don’t want my daughters catching it, too.”

“Everything will be fine,” Yuuri says, barely keeping himself from losing his temper at his oldest friend. He hates the way that damned curse is making everyone act. It’s like it’s replaced everyone he’s known all his life with complete strangers.

Yuuko doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t bring it up again.

Viktor is sitting outside on the steps to Ice Castle, Makkachin’s head in his lap, as Yuuri’s phone chirps with Mari’s text. He sees the family car pull over next to the curb, and leaves the triplets guarding his skate bag so he can help Viktor down the steps.

-

When Okaasan offers Viktor some mint tea to soothe his stomach, he actually hesitates.

“Vicchan, the mint in this tea was grown here,” she reassures him.

_But so were the vegetables we ate for breakfast this morning_, Yuuri thinks as Viktor takes the cup from his mother, raising it to his lips for a tentative sip.

His blank expression gives nothing away, but Yuuri _knows_ all the same. “Does it taste off?” he asks.

Viktor puts the cup down onto the table and pushes it away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for something you didn’t do,” Mari says as she passes by in the hallway. She’s carrying a bowl of incense that’s already smoking, the smell filling the air.

“It’s all right, Vicchan.” Okaasan pats Viktor on the arm. “We’ll find a way to make you feel better.”

Viktor’s eyebrows creep together, his posture weary. “I--”

“It’s what we do,” Okaasan says, picking up the cup of tea and getting to her feet. “Please don’t worry.”

She disappears into the hall after Mari, and Viktor sighs and slumps against the table. “Every time I think things will improve a little, something new happens,” he says softly.

Yuuri can’t help but agree, but he also knows that isn’t what Viktor needs to hear from him right then. “I’m pretty sure my family will find a way to stop it,” he says instead.

“This curse that you say I have…” Viktor shakes his head. “I mean, your family doesn’t have to bend over backwards to fix me.” He closes his eyes. “It’s not really your problem at all.”

“It’s what they do,” Yuuri says, because they’ve been having this discussion since their long talk on the beach. “Besides, my family likes you a lot. I think Okaasan wants to just adopt you.”

“That’d be lovely,” Viktor admits. “Your family is wonderful.”

“They have their moments.” Yuuri thinks back to all of the pranks Mari has played on him over the years.

“I’m sure,” Viktor lays his head down on the tabletop. “I’m sorry I dragged you away from your training. Do you want to make it up off-ice?”

“Maybe later.”

“I don’t want you to waste your day,” Viktor protests.

“This isn’t a waste,” Yuuri says, and he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Hey, check this out.”

He pulls up YouTube, and flicks over to his saved playlists. He put together a few just in case he’s having a bad day, including one that consists solely of cute dog videos.

“Have you ever heard of a shiba inu? They’re one of Japan’s national treasures.”

Viktor makes an interested noise and rearranges himself so that he’s leaning on Yuuri, his head on Yuuri’s shoulder so he can see the phone screen. “They look like little fluffy foxes,” he says in wonder.

“They scream,” Yuuri says, and Viktor hums. “Here, this one is going to scream when that lady tries to bathe him.”

The shiba in the video shrieks as his owner pours some water on his back with a cup, and Viktor jerks in surprise at the sudden noise. “You weren’t kidding.”

“Nope,” Yuuri says as the shiba carries on, the owner laughing at her dog’s antics. The video ends, and the next one starts. This one is about golden retrievers tugging a rope toy.

Viktor settles against Yuuri’s side as the video plays on, and when Yuuri looks down at his face, he catches a small smile on Viktor’s lips.

-

Viktor is unable to stomach any food for the rest of the morning, no matter what Yuuri’s parents bring him. Eventually, he excuses himself and wanders off to sit on the porch. Yuuri, sensing that he wants to be left alone, doesn’t follow. Instead, he asks permission to borrow from the hidden garden again. His parents grant it, and he browses the potted plants for the flowers and leaves that he needs.

“I thought you said that you didn’t want anything to do with this kind of thing,” Mari says wryly when she walks in on Yuuri in the shrine, assembling the various plucked petals and leaves into piles.

“Leave me alone,” Yuuri says, hunching over his project. “They won’t turn out right if you make fun of me!”

“Right,” Mari says, rolling her eyes. She kneels down next to Yuuri and pulls one of the drawstring bags over to her. “You know, adding crystals would increase the potency.”

“I don’t know crystals,” Yuuri answers. “I’m not going to try something I don’t know very well.”

“Probably a good call.”

She falls silent as she helps him assemble all four of the pouches, taking her lead from him and adding her own twists to the two that she finishes.

“Do you want me to do anything extra?” she asks as she ties the drawstrings into knots.

“Like what?”

Mari wags her eyebrows and reaches into her pocket for an unlabeled vial. She uncaps it and sprinkles the clear liquid inside onto the pouches on the floor.

Yuuri narrows his eyes at her. “What was that?”

“You tell me,” she says, her smile brimming with mischief.

Yuuri looks down at the pouches, the fabric stained with little dark spots where the suspect liquid soaked into them. “Neesan,” he whines. “I don’t want to make these all over again!”

“Then don’t, just use these,” she says, and pats him on the head as she climbs to her feet again. She leaves him there, staring at the doorway as her laughter echoes down the hall.

-

Yuuri spends the rest of the day doing conditioning nearby his home, his phone in his pocket at all times. Makkachin follows him around, content to keep pace with him as he jogs and napping as he does more stationary exercise. Viktor doesn’t accompany him, but Yuuri’s phone stays silent in his jacket.

When he returns home, his father is carrying a tray of liquors out to patrons in the dining room. There’s a bounce in his step and a genuine grin on his face. “Ah, Yuuri-kun!” he says as Yuuri switches his running shoes for house slippers. “We had some success with Vicchan while you were out!”

It takes a moment for the words to click in Yuuri’s mind, but he can’t stop the matching grin stealing over his face. “That’s great!”

Otousan beams as Yuuri jogs past him, Makkachin right behind him.

When he finds Viktor in the kitchen, cheerfully helping clean dirty dishes in the sink and letting Mari boss him around, he feels a tension that he hadn’t even known was present in his chest suddenly slacken.

“Yuuri!” Viktor says, catching sight of him. “Ah, Makkachin, my darling!” He stoops down to let his dog barrel into him, laughing as Makkachin pants and wiggles all over him. “Did you get a good workout in?”

“Mm, yeah,” Yuuri nods. He looks at Mari, who is watching with amusement. “Did you guys eat dinner?”

“Just Viktor,” she answers, a smirk on her face. “Do you want anything?”

“Maybe later,” he says.

“Don’t wait too long,” she says. “Viktor, you’re all good. I can finish up from here.”

“Thanks!” The Russian skater actually scoops up his poodle and carries her like a baby cradled in his arms. Yuuri follows him into the hallway, and eventually Makkachin wiggles too much for Viktor to keep his hold on her. He puts her down and she scrambles away, nosing open the door to Yuuri’s room and darting in.

“I guess you wore her out,” Viktor says, laughing. “But then again, she’s an elderly lady!”

“She’s a great dog,” Yuuri says. “You’re so lucky.”

“I am,” Viktor agrees. He looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t.

Yuuri waits for Viktor to finish his thought, but the other man just smiles at him.

For some reason, that smile fills Yuuri’s stomach with butterflies… but leaves him warm as Viktor turns away to head into the banquet room.

_Am I just really happy?_ He wonders. And then he wonders if it would be so bad if he is.

-

That night, Viktor walks in on Yuuri doing some drastic redecorating after dinner.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri’s ears are burning and he can’t bear to look at the man himself as he carefully unsticks the poster of Viktor lounging on a throne (at least, it had seemed like a throne to Yuuri) from the wall opposite his bed.

“What are you doing? Do you not like these anymore?”

“I mean--” Yuuri’s glasses are fogging up from the heat from his face. “It’s not like that?”

“Not like what?”

Viktor sits down on Yuuri’s bed, next to where Makkachin is already sleeping, and Yuuri rolls up the poster in his hands.

“These… these aren’t the real you,” he says after a long think. “These aren’t fake, but the real you is way… different.”

“Different?” Viktor repeats, his expression unreadable.

“Yes,” Yuuri says, realizing how stupid he sounds. “You’re… not… I mean, you’re _human_.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Viktor’s eyebrows draw together, and he actually tilts his head.

“Yes,” Yuuri says again. And before he can think about what he’s about to say, he just lets it tumble out of his mouth. “The real you is better than any of these.”

Viktor _blushes_. It’s the slightest dusting of pink along his cheekbones and on the tip of his nose, Yuuri can barely prevent himself from keeling over at the sight. He is struck with the strangest desire to plant a kiss squarely in the middle of Viktor’s face.

He _can’t_.

“Sorry,” he says instead. “That was… a dumb thing to say--”

“Thank you.”

Yuuri blinks. “Y-you’re… welcome?”

“It’s just…” Viktor’s hands come up to cover his blush, which somehow makes him _even cuter_. “No one says stuff like that.”

“Stuff like… what?”

“That they like me better than… this.” Viktor gestures at the posters that Yuuri hasn’t gotten to yet. “This person that I play out in public. Even my friends through skating…” He trails off, his expression tinged with pain. “Not that I have many friends outside skating,” he adds, his shoulders slumping. “But even so… I don’t feel like…”

Yuuri doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he keeps twisting the rolled-up poster tighter.

“I mean, it’s like… people don’t like me unless I’m ‘on’ all the time, you know?” Viktor sighs, hands twisting at the hem of his sleep shirt. “Chris and Gosha - Georgi Popovich - they say stuff like, ‘you’re no fun to be around when you get like this’ and so I try not to be, but… it’s exhausting.”

“It is,” Yuuri agrees. “I gave up on keeping up appearances a long time ago.” He mentally rewinds the conversation. “Are you saying… you feel like you can be yourself with me?”

“Well, if we’re going to just come right out with it,” Viktor says, laughing. “I guess I do feel like that.”

“That’s… wow.” Yuuri’s head feels light. “Wow.”

“Wow,” Viktor echoes him, still smiling.

“I’m… glad that you feel safe around me,” Yuuri says, because it’s true. “I want you to feel like that.”

“You’re a good person, even if you refuse to listen to advice,” Viktor teases, his eyes sparkling. “I’m surprised you don’t have more self-esteem, Yuuri.”

“I try to keep my ego in check,” Yuuri shot back at him, making Viktor laugh again.

“I like to think my ego isn’t too overgrown.”

“Mm.”

Viktor sat back on Yuuri’s bed as Yuuri went on with taking down his posters, and Yuuri got the feeling he was really examining what was still left up. “I’m surprised at how extensive your collection is,” he says. “Some of these are really rare and hard to get.”

“I have connections,” Yuuri answers, wagging his eyebrows at his guest.

“_Waow_,” Viktor says, raising his eyebrows. “Should I go to them for rare posters of you?”

“Why would you need posters of me?” Yuuri gapes. “Don’t tease me!” He points the rolled-up poster in his hand at Viktor, who grins back at him.

“Yes, you’re right,” he agrees. “Why should I get a poster when I can have the real thing?”

Yuuri thinks, _I’m going to faint_, as all the blood in his body seemed to be rushing to his face. “I-- uh--”

“Am I flustering you?” Viktor asks. “Is this too much?”

_Is it?_ “I… it’s more than what I’m used to?” Yuuri says slowly. “People aren’t usually interested in me.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case,” Viktor says. “I mean, I’ve seen at least twelve different ‘Yuuri Katsuki thirst page’ accounts on Instagram alone.”

“Y-you saw those?” Yuuri stares for a long moment, then wails and tries to hide in his t-shirt, turtle-style.

“I’m sorry, I can stop,” Viktor says.

“I don’t know how you can handle people doing thirst pages,” Yuuri whines, emerging from his shirt. “I feel like a piece of meat.”

“I was always flattered, I work hard for this body,” Viktor says, lounging back onto Makkachin.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri says, turning back to his wall.

“I’m making you uncomfortable, I’ll stop.”

“Just… I’m really not used to… anything like this,” Yuuri says into his hands. “I’m not… oh god.”

“Wait,” Viktor says, and Yuuri can hear him sitting up. “Yuuri… were you…”

Yuuri waits, but Viktor clearly thinks through what he wants to ask and decides to abort mission.

“Never mind,” he says instead, and Yuuri breathes a sigh of relief.

“Are you… staying in here tonight?”

Viktor hums. “If it’s alright with you,” he answers.

“Absolutely,” Yuuri says.

“Thank you,” Viktor says, and Makkachin makes an annoyed noise at them. “Oh, dearest Makka,” Viktor coos at his dog, who grumbles again. “Do you need your beauty sleep? Do you? Aww, my sweet old girl,”

Yuuri smothers a laugh and goes back to taking down his posters, and by the time he’s finished removing all of the photos and printouts from his walls, Viktor has fallen asleep on Yuuri’s bed. He’s smiling as he stows all of his Viktor memorabilia in his closet before he settles down on the camping bed for the night.


	5. Chapter 5

He awakens to the sound of something breaking, and the sensation of something warm and heavy draped across him. At first, he thinks it might be Makkachin, but then that warm and heavy something sighs and shifts on his chest.

Yuuri swallows and prays that his body won’t betray him as Viktor snuggles even more into his chest in his sleep.

Viktor breathes out, a soft “mmm,” and Yuuri can feel the other man’s breath on his bare collarbone. Goosebumps break out up and down his arms, and he tries his hardest to not hyperventilate.

Then, he hears Makkachin begin to growl on the bed. And the door to his room begins to shake.

Yuuri has never liked ghosts. He can’t stop the full-body shudder that sweeps through him, or his eyes squeezing shut.

He hears the hoarse gasping, like someone whose lung has collapsed without them realizing it, before he feels the burning of the ghost’s glare on his forehead. His eyes fly open and she’s leaning over him, her own eyes like burning embers in a void.

The furious, hateful expression on her face would be terrifying on a living person, but on the face of a restless spirit it’s enough to make Yuuri’s blood run ice-cold in his veins. There’s dark stains of what has to be blood, all around her mouth and nose, and the right side of her body is utterly mangled. Even so, she reaches out with her intact hand for Yuuri’s face, as if she knows that Yuuri is the reason Viktor has been safe inside this room for so long.

Yuuri screams, because there’s no other reaction. Viktor doesn’t stir, but the ghost hesitates, her spell broken, and then the door to his room flies open as Makkachin erupts into frenzied barking.

“Yuuri?” Mari shouts, and then she sees the ghost girl standing over her brother and curses a black streak. Before she can do anything, however, the ghost girl vanishes.

“Neesan, help,” Yuuri pleads. He can’t feel anything, his body is cold and numb, and his hands are shaking like autumn leaves.

“Fuck,” Mari says, and bends down to help roll Viktor off of Yuuri. Their foreign guest resists, grumbling in his sleep and clinging even more tightly to Yuuri, but after a few minutes of struggle they’re able to extract Yuuri enough that he can crawl off the camping bed.

Once free, he staggers down the hallway to the bathroom, and vomits up everything left in his stomach. His head is swimming like he’s had a near-death experience.

He senses his mother entering the bathroom before she announces herself, softly so as to not spook him, and the warmth of her hand between his shoulder blades chases away some of the chill in his chest. He heaves again, and Okaasan murmurs encouragement.

Once his stomach is empty, Okaasan puts a cool, wet washcloth on the back of his neck and helps him sit on the floor beside the sink.

“She destroyed your barrier and got into your room,” Mari says from the doorway. “I found this on the floor outside in the hallway.”

Yuuri looks up, and blanches when he sees Mari holding up the shattered pieces of the plastic cup he’d used for the charm.

“The flower was rotted,” his sister adds.

“How does a restless spirit do something like this?” Okaasan wonders.

“She’s not just a restless spirit anymore,” Mari says. “I think she’s become a hungry ghost.”

“Why is she haunting _Viktor_, though?” Yuuri shakes his head. “It doesn’t make sense. You don’t become a hungry ghost by dying in a car accident.”

Mari frowns. “We don’t even know if this is the same girl--”

“She’s a Western girl, she was wheezing like her lung had gotten crushed, and her entire side of her body looked like it had been fed into a woodchipper,” Yuuri says. “I’m going with my hunch on this. She’s Douglas’s girlfriend.”

“If that’s the case, you’re right,” Okaasan says. “There’s no way she should become a vengeful spirit and attach herself to Vicchan if she died in a car accident with her boyfriend. Didn’t you say that Douglas was the one who blamed Vicchan for his loss?”

“She could have shared that view,” Mari muses.

“It doesn’t matter,” Yuuri decides. “I want her gone, not just for Viktor but because I don’t want her anywhere near here ever again.”

“We may be out of our depth,” Mari says. “I’m not sure if Tousan will be able to secure the house anymore, especially if she’s attached to Viktor.”

“Is there anyone you can call?”

“There are some people from the group up north,” Okaasan says. “We can contact them once everyone starts waking up. They have more experience with expelling spirits.”

“How far north?” Yuuri asks.

“They’re based in Hokkaido,” Okaasan says, and that’s… not the best news.

“Is there anyone closer? Someone in Fukuoka?”

“Not able to do what we need,” his mother says, an apology clear in her voice. “Oda-san has experience with hungry ghosts, he’ll be able to help.”

Yuuri sighs. “Thank you,” he says after a long while. His mother pats him on the shoulder.

“Yuuri?”

His mother and his sister exchange unreadable looks over Yuuri’s head, and then Okaasan is patting him on the shoulder again and they’re moving out of Viktor’s way, edging back into the hallway.

“What happened?” Viktor asks as Okaasan and Mari leave them alone. “I woke up and your father was waving smoke into the room, and you were gone--”

“It--” Yuuri swallows. “I don’t think you want to know--”

Viktor’s eyes dip to Yuuri’s lips, then back up to meet his gaze. “The ghost girl came back, didn’t she?”

Yuuri flinches.

“I’m so sorry,” Viktor says, and his posture changes subtly, but in a way that Yuuri is familiar with at this point. “I… I had hoped that she’d stay away from you--”

“We’re going to get rid of her,” Yuuri says. “My parents have contacts, they can exorcise ghosts. We’ll get them out here.”

“I’m too much trouble,” Viktor says, as if he hasn’t even heard Yuuri. “I really should leave.”

“_No_,” Yuuri says. “We want you to stay.”

Viktor looks down at him, sitting on his bathroom floor after having puked up his guts out of fear, and Yuuri can pick up on his conflicted feelings.

“I mean it,” Yuuri says. “I want you here.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt by this,” Viktor answers, and he just looks so _weary_.

Yuuri shakes his head, takes a moment to struggle to his feet. He’s not completely steady, but it doesn’t matter. He needs to be standing.

“No offense,” he says. “It doesn’t matter what you want, because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you deal with this alone.”

“Yuuri…”

Yuuri shakes his head again, and fumbles for mouthwash. His hands are still shaking, but he manages to get the cap off the bottle.

“Here,” Viktor says, taking the bottle from him. “Let me.”

“I’m perfectly able to--”

“Sure you are,” Viktor says, a tired smile on his lips. He pours a generous capful of menthol mouthwash and hands it to Yuuri, who takes it without complaint.

Swishing out the taste of bile from his mouth makes him feel a million times better, and he manages to regain his sense of balance again by the time he spits into the sink.

“Let’s go back to bed,” he says, catching Viktor’s wrist. “No waking up early, no ice time, just resting.”

“Can you afford that?” Viktor asks.

“I’ll be fine,” Yuuri says, tugging Viktor into the hallway. “Skating isn’t as important as…”

_\--as you,_ he wants to say, but the words stumble in his throat and wither in his mouth.

Viktor makes a soft noise, and lets Yuuri lead him down towards his bedroom.

-

They end up on Yuuri’s bed together, because Viktor doesn’t want to let Yuuri go. It’s a tight fit, but Yuuri can’t bring himself to care about it. Viktor makes himself comfortable with his head on Yuuri’s shoulder, and Makkachin curls up on the abandoned camping bed.

The smell of Otousan’s incense is still hanging in the air, a comforting blend of sandalwood and other scents Yuuri can’t identify at the moment. It makes him feel safe, even though every cell in his body is telling him that the ghost girl is still out there, waiting in the aether.

_But we know she’s there_, he reminds himself. It would be incredibly stupid for her to push her way back into the home of known magic practicioners.

“Yuuri,” Viktor whispers, and Yuuri can feel Viktor’s fingers creeping up his arm, dancing on his shoulders and playing with the collar of Yuuri’s sleep shirt. “I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” Yuuri says.

“Do… you mind this?” Viktor asks, and when Yuuri looks at him, he meets Viktor’s clear blue eyes, sparkling like the sea in the height of summer. “Is this too much?”

“No,” Yuuri says, because it’s true. He’s not lying. “I want you with me like this.” He’s blushing now, but there’s no point in trying to hide anything. “This is all I could have hoped for.”

Viktor smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “This is more than I could have ever dreamed of,” he says. “I… always thought things would be different when I…”

Yuuri waits, but it seems that Viktor isn’t going to finish his thought. “Do you feel safe, at least?” he asks after a while.

“I do,” Viktor says, and shifts slightly so that more of his body is pressed up against Yuuri’s. “I feel wonderful.”

“Good,” Yuuri answers, and allows his arms to wrap around Viktor’s torso and draw him even closer. Viktor sighs and cuddles closer instead of pushing Yuuri off or drawing away, as Yuuri had been fearing.

They fall asleep wrapped in each other, Yuuri drifting off with the certainty that whatever feelings he’s been trying to ignore, Viktor holds them too.

-

He awakens to the sound of his cell phone alarm going off, and before he can shift and flick it off, he feels Viktor moving on top of him. Yuuri’s phone goes silent, and Viktor settles back down against him.

“Sorry,” Yuuri mumbles, his voice scratchy with sleep.

“It’s all right,” Viktor says. “I was already awake.”

Yuuri frowns, forcing his eyes open. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

“Yes, a bit,” Viktor says, in a reassuring tone. Yuuri can feel Viktor’s breath on his cheek, and when he can finally focus his eyes, he turns his head to look directly into Viktor’s eyes. In the thin rays of sunlight that creep in between the drapes, Viktor looks so alive and content.

_So this is love_, Yuuri thinks, a smile spreading on his face. “What?” he asks, still self-conscious.

“Your eyes are so warm,” Viktor says softly. “You’re so handsome, Yuuri.”

“I’m nothing special,” Yuuri says, his cheeks burning. “There are more handsome guys out there.”

“Hmm,” Viktor draws in closer. “Not sure about that. Besides, I’m sure they aren’t as kind and sweet as you.”

“I’m kind of selfish,” Yuuri admits. “And I’m not good at confrontations--”

“You sure were good at confronting everyone that tried to make life difficult for me,” Viktor says. “I still remember that hotel clerk’s face when you started demanding answers from her. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you keep defending me from your own friends.”

Yuuri doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Maybe you have a lot of courage deep inside of you, and it takes specific situations to bring it out,” Viktor says, tracing his fingers over Yuuri’s chest. “Like the Cowardly Lion, who isn’t so cowardly after all. You just needed a reason to be brave.”

“It’s not bravery,” Yuuri says. “It’s just… it was the right thing to do.”

“That takes courage,” Viktor insists. “It takes courage to do a lot of things. I think you’re being too hard on yourself, Yuuri. And trust me, I know handsomeness when I see it,” he adds, and brushes the tip of his nose against Yuuri’s.

Yuuri blushes even harder. “You’re not going to stop complimenting me, are you?”

“Nope.”

“I’d better get used to it, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Hmm,” Yuuri closes his eyes and pretends to think about it. “Does this mean I can compliment you back?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Viktor says in such a bright tone that Yuuri has to laugh.

“Well,” Yuuri says, looking Viktor in the eye again. “You have the most musical voice.”

“Ooh?” Viktor is smiling as his bangs fall over his forehead, obscuring one eye.

“Your laughter is so bright, I love hearing you laugh,” Yuuri goes on. He reaches up to push Viktor’s hair off his forehead. “This too,” he adds, carding his fingers along Viktor’s scalp.

The Russian skater’s eyes slide shut, like a contented cat being petted. “My hair?” he asks, his voice colored with amusement.

“Yes, your hair is so lovely,” Yuuri says. “I cried when you chopped it off, but… I like this too,” he admits, suddenly shy.

“I miss my long hair,” Viktor says. “But it was so much upkeep. Maybe now that I’m not competing anymore, I’ll grow it back out.”

“Ohhh.” Yuuri can imagine it. “You could put it in a bun when you get in the hot springs.”

“You’d like that, huh?” Viktor’s eyes glitter. “You have a thing for my hair, Yuuri?”

“I just said!” Yuuri pouts. “Don’t tease me, you were very formative for my teenage years.”

“Hmm,” Viktor’s eyes flick down at Yuuri’s mouth and then back up again. “Did you ever… dream about me?”

Yuuri’s entire face is burning now, there is so much blood rushing to his head that he can hear his heart pounding in his ears. “All the time,” Yuuri says, his voice strangled.

“Were they good dreams?”

“Not as good as the reality,” Yuuri says honestly, and Viktor’s expression wavers for just a second, a split second of shock, but the smile comes back immediately.

“Yuuri,” Viktor’s tone drops to a hush, even though there’s no one to overhear. “Did you have a crush on me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Yuuri asks, equally hushed.

“_Waow_, Yuuri,” Viktor grins. “Do you have any fantasies you’d want me to play into?”

Yuuri snorts. “Plenty, and you don’t need to know any of them.”

“_Ooooooh_.” Viktor twines their fingers together. “Hey, Yuuri, can I tell you a secret?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Viktor says in a solemn voice.

“Hmm,” Yuuri’s hand finds Viktor’s waist. “What a coincidence,” he says. “I think I might be in love with you too.”

“Oh,” Viktor breathes. “What a wonderful coincidence.”

Yuuri’s heart feels so full that it might burst. He doesn’t know what to say, what to do, so he doesn’t do anything but lay there, tangled up in Viktor and with Viktor tangled up in him. Wrapped up in each other in the sunlight, it feels like all is right in the world.

Just for the moment, at least.

Later on, when Yuuri’s loudly protesting stomach gets them up out of bed and down into the kitchen for breakfast, Mari reminds Yuuri of the herb pouches he’d made.

“You made something?” Viktor asks, his eyes widening. “And here you said you didn’t have talent for this sort of thing.”

Yuuri blushes and stares at the egg he’s been eating. “It’s not a question of talent, it’s just something I picked up on,” he mumbles.

“Ooh,” Viktor says. “That could be useful to learn.” He looks at Yuuri’s parents. “Did you teach Yuuri how to do these things?”

“Of course,” Okaasan says, smiling. “Yuuri, what did you make?”

“Luck sachets,” Yuuri answers, not looking up from his plate.

“Oh, with plants from the garden? Good idea, Yuu-chan!”

“Luck with a little something extra,” Mari says, wagging her eyebrows.

“Mari-neesan,” Yuuri whines.

“Did you add something?” Otousan asks, but Mari grins and refuses to answer.

“What?” Viktor looks to Yuuri for an explanation.

“My sister is bullying me,” Yuuri says, shoving a bite of egg in his mouth.

“Ah,” Viktor says. “That’s not very nice.”

“You’ll be fine,” Mari says, flapping a hand at Yuuri. “Don’t be such a baby, Yuu-chan.”

“Hmph.”

After eating and helping clean up after the meal, Viktor begs Yuuri to join him and Makkachin on a trip to the beach again. This time, the sun is bright overhead, and Viktor pulls Yuuri into the surf as it washes up onto the shore. They only stay for a couple hours, but when Yuuri sees that Viktor’s shoulders are starting to look a little red, he drags Viktor back into the shade.

Upon their return to the onsen, Viktor lets Okaasan fuss over his sunburn and feed him freshly sliced watermelon. He and Yuuri retire to the porch and watch Makkachin poke around the courtyard as they eat a light lunch.

“I’ve been thinking,” Viktor says after a while.

Yuuri, whose mouth is full, gestures for him to continue.

“You need a free skate program, if you want to compete this season.” Viktor nibbles on the dumplings that Yuuri had thrown together earlier. “You’re on your way to mastering the short program, but…”

Yuuri swallowed his mouthful and thought about it. “If I’m going to compete…”

“Don’t give me that,” Viktor says, pouting. “You’re taking on _Agape_, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what would be a good free skate,” Yuuri says, chewing on his lip. “I honestly don’t.”

“Do you have any songs you feel strongly about?” Viktor asks.

“Typically, my coach picks my music.” Yuuri thinks back to his time in Detroit with Celestino.

“Well, you don’t have a coach,” Viktor points out. “So, any thoughts?”

“There _was_ a song that a classmate composed for me, but we decided not to use it,” Yuuri admits. “It’s not… it didn’t have that punch, you know?”

“Can I hear it?”

Yuuri nods and excuses himself so he can grab his laptop and some earbuds from his room. When he brings it back to Viktor, he settles back down to keep eating while Viktor listens to the demo track, pondering it over his forgotten lunch.

“You’re right,” he eventually says. “It doesn’t have that punch. But I won’t say it doesn’t have potential.”

“You think that it could work?” Yuuri asks, his eyebrows going up.

“There’s something there,” Viktor says. “Do you still talk to this classmate? Can you ask them to rework it?”

“I mean, I kind of went into hermit mode after the Grand Prix Final,” Yuuri admits. “But I’m still in contact with my former rinkmate, and I’m sure he can connect me to her.”

“I say go for it,” Viktor says. “You want to email him now?”

“I guess it can’t hurt.” Yuuri takes the laptop back and opens a tab for Gmail, and Viktor returns to eating as Yuuri finds Phichit’s contact info and opens a new message.

It feels weird, to send Phichit a fairly formal email that reads like a letter from a regency novel. _Hey, how are you? Hope you’re doing well. I’m hoping you can connect me to that one girl from the conservatory, do you still have her email address? _Plus a few pleasantries, because he hasn’t spoken to Phichit since he left Detroit.

He sends the email off and closes his laptop so he can finish his meal, and then they spend the rest of the day helping around the onsen and talking about anything that comes up.

“Hey, Yuuri,” Viktor says after they join his family for dinner and of course help to clean up. “What about those lucky satchels? Satches? What are they?”

“The luck sachets,” Yuuri says. “What about them?”

“What were you going to do with them?”

“Oh.” Yuuri contemplates the dish he’s drying. “I mean, they’re something you stick in your pocket and carry around with you.”

“Were you thinking of carrying one?” Viktor asks.

“I mostly made them for you,” Yuuri says. “They’re not much, but they might help.”

“I appreciate it.” Viktor smiles at him. “I’m sure you made them with love, and that’s important!”

Mari makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a cough and a high-pitched laugh, and flees the kitchen when Yuuri glares at her.

“You can have them all,” he says to Viktor, who preens. “You can have anything you want.”

“Hmm,” Viktor says, tapping his lips with one finger. “Anything?”

Yuuri’s face burns with that damn blush. “Almost anything?” he amends, but Viktor is already grinning at him.

“Yuuri, you’re so much fun to tease,” he says, and lays his head on Yuuri’s shoulder as he takes the dish out of Yuuri’s hands. It’s been squeaky dry for the past minute or so.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” Yuuri mutters, but he melts into Viktor’s warmth and breathes in his natural scent.

Viktor hums, and then Okaasan pokes her head back into the kitchen.

“Yuu-chan, I can finish up the dishes if you have things you need to do,” she says, and when Yuuri pulls away from Viktor, her eyes are sparkling with amusement behind her glasses.

_My whole family is making fun of me,_ he thinks, and drags Viktor away from the kitchen to hide away in Yuuri’s room for the night.

-

This time, the protection for Yuuri’s room is a lot stronger, and Otousan is the one who puts it in place.

“These are purified metals,” he explains to Viktor, who is watching with interest as he secures the talismans to the doorframe. “They were blessed by various kami in a local shrine.”

“Kami?” Viktor asks.

Yuuri pipes up from his desk. “Nature gods and spirits.”

“Oh! Like in _Spirited Away_?”

“Yes, exactly like that,” Yuuri says.

“Wow!” Viktor examines the talismans up close, practically bouncing with excitement. “That’s amazing!”

Otousan is grinning as he finishes up. “You two should be safe tonight, so be sure to sleep at some point!” he says loudly as he gathers up his supplies.

“_Tousan!!_” Yuuri whines, and all he gets in response is his father chuckling as he heads down the hallway.

“So your family is… okay with…” Viktor gestures between the two of them.

Yuuri’s face is burning. “I guess so,” he says.

“That makes me feel a little better,” Viktor says, sitting down on Yuuri’s bed.

“They already liked you before,” Yuuri reminds him.

This time, it’s Viktor’s turn to blush. “Yuuri, was your family trying to get us together?”

Yuuri thinks about it. “I have no idea,” he eventually says, but he has his suspicions.

“I’ll have to find a way to thank them if that’s the case,” Viktor muses, petting Makkachin.

“Make me a bridesmaid,” Mari says as she passes by in the hallway, and Yuuri jumps to his feet so he can slam his door shut on her laughter.

-

Viktor is getting ready for bed when Yuuri’s Skype window lights up with an incoming call. He blinks when he sees Phichit’s profile pic on the caller ID, and he hits the answer button before he really thinks about it.

“Yuuri!” his friend and former rinkmate cheers when the video call connects. “I can’t believe I’ve finally heard from you! This is great!”

“Hi, Phichit.” Yuuri can’t stop the smile from stealing across his face. “How’ve you been?”

“Pretty good, pretty good!” Phichit winks. “Did you see? Celestino and I have moved home rinks, we’re in Bangkok now!”

“Wow, good for you!” Yuuri can’t help but feel happy for his friend. “And you’re qualifying for the Grand Prix this year, I hope you’re getting ready.”

“Yeah, we’re working hard,” Phichit winks. “But that email you sent me… does it mean you’re getting ready too?”

Yuuri struggles to keep a straight face when all he wants to do is grin. “Maybe.”

“I _knew_ you weren’t finished!” Phichit cheers. “I mean, I was worried that you doing that Viktor routine was your swan song, but this is fantastic! I hope I get to compete against you!”

“Hopefully!” Yuuri decides to sidestep the Viktor comment. “Yeah, I was thinking of having that one demo reworked.”

“The one Ketty did? Sure, I remember it!” Phichit looks at Yuuri, his eyes flicking up and down. “Do you need a short program song, too?”

“No, I’ve already got one,” Yuuri answers. “It’s good.”

“Nice! Are you putting the choreography together yourself?”

“I have some help,” Yuuri answers, shrugging. “But I’m trying to be more involved this time.”

“Great!” Phichit’s genuine joy is infectious. “I’m so happy you’re going to keep going, and you’re not retiring! This is the best news I’ve gotten all month!” He shifts and the background changes, which reveals that he’s on his phone at his new-but-old rink. “Who are you working with?”

“A retired pro,” Yuuri says, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Viktor standing in the doorway, listening. Makkachin squeezes between Viktor’s legs and the doorframe to pad into the room. Yuuri refocuses on the call. “He saw the viral video and came out here.”

“To Hasetsu? Wow!” Phichit grins. “I was worried that anything associated with Viktor would bring you down too, but it’s good that someone saw your potential! Is it anyone I know?”

“Probably,” Yuuri says.

“I guess you’ll reveal who this mystery benefactor is when you head to your Regionals, right? You still need to do that after last season, yeah?” Phichit winks. “Okay, keep your secrets. Ah, I need to get back to practice, but I’ll send you Ketty’s email address right away. Can’t wait to see you skating again, Yuuri! Update your Instagram!”

“Sure,” Yuuri agrees, and after they say their goodbyes and sign off, he sees Phichit’s response email right away.

“Are you ashamed of me helping you?” Viktor asks from the doorway, and when Yuuri finally looks up at him, he can’t read the expression on the Russian man’s face.

“No,” Yuuri answers immediately. “No. I just didn’t want to hear my friend shit-talking you, and I didn’t want you to have to listen to it. When we get rid of that ghost girl and break your bad luck curse, everyone is going to have to eat their words about you.”

Viktor gives him a small smile. “I believe it,” he says.

Yuuri nods, his brows drawn together in determination. “Everyone will be so ashamed of their behavior,” he promises.

“You make me confident in that outcome,” Viktor says, crossing the room to sit on Yuuri’s bed. “Thank you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri smiles. “No need. Besides, I’m not going to put up with anyone slandering you anymore.”

Viktor breathes in, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leans back on the heels of his hands and pats the bed next to him. “You staying up?” he asks, and Makkachin curls up on the floor next to his feet.

“I’m going to email my old classmate before I get in bed,” Yuuri says, turning back to his laptop. “It’ll just be a minute.”

“Okay,” Viktor says, and Yuuri can hear him making himself comfortable as Yuuri opens Phichit’s email to find Ketty’s contact info.

A few minutes later, Yuuri sends off the email to Ketty and closes his laptop up. “Okay,” he says. “I’m done.”

He looks at Viktor, who immediately holds out his arms to Yuuri. Opens them, so Yuuri can climb onto the bed and settle against Viktor’s chest.

“I feel very good about this season for you,” Viktor says.

Yuuri smiles into his neck. “Me too.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note for the sensitive: there is some implied sexual content in this chapter, but nothing explicit. There is also mention of starving and vomiting.

Ketty responds almost right away, enthusiastic and excited, and promises to pull out all the stops on the newest version of her demo track. Yuuri tells her to not push herself and take as long as she needs, while he and Viktor return to working on _Agape._

The luck sachets are doing exactly what Yuuri wanted them to, and the Nishigori family doesn’t give Viktor any trouble when they spend their days at Ice Castle. Yuuri wonders if it’s whatever Mari added to the pouches, or if the curse is finally weakening. It’s probably the potency of his mother’s garden, he decides, and doesn’t complain at the results.

_Agape_ comes together over the next couple of weeks, and even though Yuuri still needs to work on his jumps, the rest of the program feels very solid. It’s exhausting, but the delighted look on Viktor’s face after every increasingly successful run-through spurs Yuuri on to work harder.

As promised, Yuuri starts to rejoin the world of social media again, posting videos of his progress on Instagram and allowing the triplets to help with filming. He’s very careful to keep Viktor out of it, and Viktor admits his agreement with that decision.

“I’m sure these sachets can’t fix the rest of the skating world’s opinion of me, so the less controversy we can stir up, the better,” he says.

“Just wait until Oda-san gets out here and helps us fix everything,” Yuuri says. “You’re going to feel so much better.”

“I’m already feeling great,” Viktor says, winking. “Must be the wonderful company I keep.”

Yuuri blushes, and escapes to center ice so he can cool off.

Off-ice, Viktor begins to work with Yuuri on some basic ballet. They aren’t able to find a proper dance studio, as Minako still won’t talk to Yuuri or his family, so they clear some space in the banquet room and make do in there.

“This is bringing me back,” Viktor says. “Back when Yakov’s ex-wife worked with me on my dance foundation.”

“What was she like?” Yuuri asks, and then the rest of the afternoon is filled with stories of Viktor’s former coach and the prima ballerina that Yakov had been married to up until recently. A lot of those stories are hilarious, and Yuuri has to stop and laugh before he falls over.

A little less than a week after that, Ketty finally emails Yuuri a sound file. The past few emails have been progress reports and little updates, a couple soundbites and excerpts, but this one is just the file and the message _I didn’t title it, so pick a good one!_

Yuuri calls Viktor into his room and plugs in his good speakers, then opens the file in his media player and hits play.

The song that flows from his laptop sweeps around them, filling the room with piano and soft strings, and Yuuri has to sit down and clutch at his chest.

“My goodness,” Viktor says, his words muffled by the hand over his mouth. “Yuuri, it’s beautiful!”

“It’s perfect,” Yuuri says, and he’s definitely not crying. Nope. Not at all.

“What changed?” Viktor asks, and Yuuri looks up at him. His blue eyes are misty. “What direction did you give to your classmate, what was different this time?”

“I…” Yuuri can feel the flush creeping up his neck again. “I told her to make it more of a love song,” he admits, playing with the hem of his sleep shirt. “Less of a story of my life, and more of… a love anthem.”

Viktor’s other hand raises to cover his heart. “It’s perfect,” he agrees after a moment, as the song winds down. “Absolutely perfect.”

Yuuri smiles.

-

They begin work on choreography for Yuuri’s free skate the following day, and it’s with renewed energy that Yuuri tackles this program. Ketty’s reworked song is like a shot of adrenaline to his veins, and Viktor seems similarly rejuvenated.

The short program is definitely something that Viktor poured all of himself into, it drips with his personality and his emotions. The free skate, similarly, is a portrait of Yuuri instead. It plays to his strengths and feels genuinely joyful to perform. Even the Nishigori family is enthusiastic about it, openly cheering him on as he begins to run through segments of it.

Viktor transfers money from his own savings over to Yuuri and tells him to pay Ketty for her work, because “such a masterpiece deserves a giant compensation.” Yuuri agrees, and refuses to let Ketty in turn refuse the payment.

The rest of the month and the next month are dedicated to mastering Yuuri’s new programs, and preparing to head to the regional competitions so Yuuri can progress into the Grand Prix circuit. He’s already been seeded, so he just needs to get the local competitions finished before he can proceed to wherever he’s first assigned. The assignments aren’t due for a while, as it’s still the beginning of summer, but Yuuri is determined to be as ready as possible for it.

He explains the block competitions to Viktor over dinner one night, when Viktor expresses confusion at that. It turns into the two of them explaining the Grand Prix assignments to the rest of Yuuri’s family, and due to that it takes a while for Yuuri to notice that Viktor isn’t really eating all that much.

“Vicchan, is the food not good?” Okaasan asks, and that’s when Yuuri gets a look at Viktor’s bowl, which he sees is largely untouched.

“I’m just not too hungry tonight,” Viktor says, waving it off. “Besides, this is an educational opportunity! Let me tell you about Russian competitions…”

He obligingly eats a little bit more to placate Yuuri’s mother, and regales them with tales of Russian Nationals of his past. Even so, the sight of Viktor’s leftovers sticks with Yuuri afterwards.

And then he can’t stop noticing it. The fact that Viktor is starting to not finish his meals anymore, and even avoid drinking water.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, trying very hard to not outright confront Viktor after a meal.

“Not at all!” Viktor says brightly. “I’m fine, Yuuri, don’t worry! Hey, I had an idea for the second jump combination earlier, let’s go over it before we go to bed.”

Yuuri isn’t convinced, but allows Viktor to sidetrack him. Later on, when they’ve retired to Yuuri’s still-too-small bed, Yuuri finds himself stroking up Viktor’s sides. He suddenly realizes that Viktor has been wearing a shirt to bed lately, and slides his hand underneath the fabric.

“Mm,” Viktor says sleepily. “Are you thinking of anything--”

Yuuri doesn’t answer, but his heart leaps into his throat as his fingers encounter prominent bumps along Viktor’s torso. He’s literally feeling Viktor’s ribs. “How long have you been not eating?” he asks, his voice strangled. “What’s wrong?”

Viktor goes stiff. “It’s fine, Yuuri,” he says softly. “Don’t worry.”

“I can’t help but worry! Viktor, you’re losing muscle mass--”

“It’s okay,” Viktor reassures him. “I’m not working out as much as I used to, I’m letting myself go soft. Best part of retirement, in my opinion.” He gently removes Yuuri’s hands from under his shirt and weaves their fingers together. “Don’t worry, Yuuri.” He presses his forehead to Yuuri’s and brings their entwined hands to his lips, kissing each of Yuuri’s knuckles. “You have more important things to put your energy towards.”

“Something is wrong,” Yuuri insists. “Please, don’t lie to me.”

Viktor goes silent. “It’s all right,” he says after a while. “I just haven’t been feeling very hungry. I’m sure once Oda-san comes, it will work itself out. Yeah?”

And that’s when Yuuri remembers that Oda-san still hasn’t come. “Shit,” he says, and rolls out of bed, ignoring Viktor’s protests.

His parents are in the family dining room having a nightcap when Yuuri stumbles in, his chest heaving.

“Yuu-chan?” his mother asks.

“When was Oda-san supposed to arrive?” he demands. “It’s been almost a month. What’s happening?”

“He had obligations to his neighbors, Yuuri,” his father says. “He promised to be down as soon as possible.”

“But is he still coming?”

His parents exchange concerned looks. “We haven’t heard from him in a while,” Okaasan murmurs.

“Okay,” Otousan says. “We’ll call him in the morning. It’s too late now, Yuuri.”

“Something else is going wrong with Viktor,” Yuuri says, because his parents _aren’t getting it_. “He’s losing weight, I only just noticed it.”

“Well, he _has_ been keeping you busy,” Mari says from behind him. When he turns to face his sister, she’s frowning. “Has he been distracting you on purpose?”

Yuuri wants to scream in frustration. “I thought things were getting better,” he says, barely keeping himself from tearing his hair out.

“Those talismans are helping,” Mari says. “The ghost girl hasn’t been back.”

“But--”

“Yuuri, Kaasan and Tousan will talk to him in the morning,” Mari interrupts him. “We’ll take care of Viktor in the meantime, okay?”

“If anything happens in the night, you can wake us up,” Okaasan promises. She reaches out to him, and he takes her hand so she can squeeze his. “You need your sleep, Yuu-chan.”

Yuuri swallows down what he wants to say and nods, allowing Mari to shepherd him back up to his room for the night.

-

He awakens with his nose in Viktor’s hair, spooning him from behind. Viktor had, when Yuuri had gotten back to his bedroom, rolled over and fallen asleep facing the wall, and Yuuri had rejoined him in bed and curled up along his back before going to sleep as well. Sometime during the night, Viktor had wrapped Yuuri’s arms around himself, and seemed to be relaxed, settled into the curve of Yuuri’s body.

Yuuri blinks the sleep out of his eyes. “Viktor,” he whispers. “Are you awake?”

Viktor makes a soft noise, but doesn’t actually answer.

Yuuri closes his eyes and pulls the other man against him even tighter. “I hate that nothing we do to help you is permanent,” he admits, pressing a kiss against the nape of Viktor’s neck.

“Yuuri?” Viktor finally mumbles, and shifts a little. “What’s wrong?”

Yuuri just squeezes Viktor’s arm.

“What time is it?” Viktor asks, and Yuuri shakes his head. “Is the sun up yet?”

“Not yet.”

Viktor hums, and finally sits up a little so he can turn over and face Yuuri in bed. “What do you say we have a little bit of a lie-in, hm?” he asks.

“It’s a day off,” Yuuri says, because it’s true and he’s only just remembering it.

“Ooh,” Viktor says, a sly smile crossing his face. “Well, that means…”

He pushes Yuuri onto his back and climbs on top of him, straddling his thighs. Yuuri’s hands fall to the side, finding handholds on Viktor’s hips. His heart is racing, and Viktor’s expression is looking less sleepy and more hungry.

They’ve been taking slow steps towards… _intimacy_, but always stop short of anything too explicit. Now, Viktor is working his hands under Yuuri’s sleep shirt and trying to work it over his head. “Mm, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning down to mouth at Yuuri’s neck.

“Oh my god--” Yuuri gasps as Viktor’s hand finds its way down his chest. “Vi--_Vicchan--_”

“Mm, that’s such a cute nickname,” Viktor says, gently rotating his hips. “But your mom calls me that, we can’t have me getting hot and bothered when she uses that.”

“D--_Viktor--_”

“How about Vitya?” Viktor whispers in Yuuri’s ear. “That works better, yeah?”

“You’re distracting me,” Yuuri stutters as Viktor palms him through his pajama pants. “V-Viktor--”

“Yeah, I am,” Viktor admits, before giving up and flopping over onto the bed again. “Sorry,” he adds, sounding ashamed.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri squeaks. “Viktor, you can’t just leave me like this!”

Viktor blinks, looking over at Yuuri as a light pink blush stains his cheeks. “Oh, oh,” he says, scooting closer to Yuuri. “Did I get you worked up?”

“_Yes,_” Yuuri whines, covering his face with his hands. “Did you think I was made of stone? _Vitya!_”

“Well, I _do_ like you using that name,” Viktor says. “Okay, we have a couple options here. You can go take a cold shower, or calm down, or something. Or…” He hesitates. “Or I can take care of it for you.”

“...take care of it…” Yuuri repeats.

“Are you opposed to it?” Viktor asks.

_No, nononononononono I’m not_, Yuuri mentally screams.

“I’m not opposed to it,” Viktor adds, tugging Yuuri’s hands away from his face. “Yuuri, I’m sorry--”

“Y-- you wanted to know about fantasies,” Yuuri says, forcing the words out.

Viktor goes silent.

“I… I’m also not opposed to it.”

“Ooh,” Viktor breathes, and when Yuuri looks at him, he’s smiling. “In that case…”

He’s still smiling as he ducks back under the covers, and Yuuri has to stuff his fist in his mouth in order to not wake up the rest of the household after that.

-

Yuuri can’t look any of his family members in the eye for the rest of the day, even as Viktor’s clinginess kicks into maximum overdrive and leads to Viktor more or less being glued to his side from then on. Even at breakfast, Viktor drapes himself over Yuuri’s shoulder, his hands around Yuuri’s arm or wrist or waist.

Yuuri’s parents either don’t notice or choose not to comment, but Mari’s eyes are boring a hole in Yuuri’s head whenever they’re in the room together. Yuuri refuses to meet her gaze, and tries his hardest to not be in the same room as his sister whenever he can.

When Viktor finally untangles himself from Yuuri and disappears to use the restroom, Okaasan catches Yuuri in the dining room. “I spoke to Oda-san earlier,” she says, and her expression is crestfallen. “Yuuri, I’m so sorry.”

Yuuri’s blood runs cold. “What happened?”

“There’s been a strange outbreak of some kind of illness in his town, and he’s got his hands full trying to help with it,” Okaasan says, shaking her head. “That’s why it’s been so long since we’ve heard from him. He says he needs to make sure it’s taken care of before he can even think of leaving.”

“That… that’s terrible,” Yuuri manages, but all he can think is _that’s terribly convenient, isn’t it?_

Because it _is_ convenient.

“Is there anyone closer that we can turn to?” he asks, and Okaasan shrugs helplessly.

“I’m sorry, Yuu-chan.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Yuuri says, and ducks into the hallway so that his mother doesn’t see the stormy expression on his face.

He’s suspected for some time now that someone has been continually upping the stakes in regards to Viktor’s curse, trying to out-maneuver Yuuri and his family’s efforts. Every time they solve a problem or treat a symptom, a new one pops up and knocks Viktor on his backside. _Every time_ they get a handle on the haunting, she gets more powerful.

Yuuri is starting to think that this isn’t a self-sustained curse. Viktor is very specifically being targeted, and it’s time to find out by whom.

-

The initial search leads nowhere. None of the news articles about Douglas’s death name his girlfriend, and one even specifically states that doing so was out of respect for the girl’s family.

Now that was interesting.

“Makes me think that one of her parents or other relatives is prominent,” Yuuri says to Mari as she passes by. “Skating isn’t as popular in America as here, but it’s still a big sport. It’s weird that the girlfriend hasn’t been mentioned by name otherwise.”

“Hmm,” Mari answers, but gets called away to attend to a patron. Yuuri goes back to his research.

It’s useless to go to official sources, but Yuuri’s best friend is quite the net-sleuth, and from him Yuuri learned the art of Insta-stalking.

Douglas’s Instagram is still up, and it literally takes a few tries before Yuuri finds a picture with a girl in it. Douglas had his arm around her in the photo, and the caption is appropriately sappy. Yuuri pokes around and finds a linked account.

Her name, he finds, is Cady. No last name. But her account has also been silent since Douglas’s death. Her photos of Douglas have matching sappy captions. Yuuri’s gut is telling him that he’s found her.

He has something to work from. He has a _starting point_.

He goes to Facebook next. It’s there that he finds Cady Bolin’s memorial page by starting at Douglas’s. He dives into her relationships page, and…

It’s been wiped.

He tries Douglas’s, pokes around at the deceased skater’s web of family and friends, and tries desperately to pick out someone who could also be related to Cady.

He spends what feels like hours going through strangers’ profiles and sifting through connections, only to come up empty at the end of it all.

_Dammit._ Yuuri slams his laptop shut in frustration.

“Dead end?” Mari asks.

“Someone is really working to cover their tracks,” Yuuri mutters. He gets up and grabs his tech to dump in his room. He changes into workout clothes, and catches Viktor in the hall.

“I’m going to condition,” he says. “I have a lot of energy to burn off.”

“I’ll come with you,” Viktor says immediately. “It’s your rest day, you shouldn’t push yourself.”

“I feel like I’m going to vibrate out of my skin,” Yuuri says, and it comes out like a whine.

Viktor frowns. “What happened?”

“Nothing. I’m frustrated. C’mon, let’s go.” Yuuri tries to get around Viktor, who somehow manages to get them turned around.

“I think there’s a better way to burn off energy,” Viktor says.

Yuuri’s mind immediately goes into the gutter. “Uh--”

“You have a game system, right? Teach me how to play something. I suck at gaming.”

Yuuri is taken for a loop long enough that Viktor is able to drag him back into his bedroom, Makkachin following along behind them.

This ends with Yuuri playing a shitty first-person-shooter and Viktor sitting in his lap on Yuuri’s bed, occasionally pointing out an enemy for Yuuri to attack, and Yuuri putting all of his frustrated energy into winning several online campaigns in a row.

“Mm, Yuuri,” Viktor says, leaning his head onto Yuuri’s shoulder. “You could be dangerous if you wanted to be.”

“It’s just a game,” Yuuri says, sniping a rival player from a huge distance with a ridiculously updated piece of weaponry.

“Of course.” Viktor nudges Yuuri and points. “There’s another one.”

Yuuri takes it out. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Yuuri doesn’t look, but he can hear Viktor’s smile in his words.

-

After bringing his Guild to victory several times over and sufficiently venting his frustration via digital rampage, Yuuri finally shuts down his Xbox and flops back onto his bed. Viktor, who had moved to the floor to lay with Makkachin and play with her ears, pokes Yuuri’s calf. “Are you all right, Yuuri?”

“My bloodlust has been sated,” Yuuri says dramatically, making Viktor giggle.

“Why were you so angry, earlier?” he asks, leaning his head against Yuuri’s knee.

Yuuri sighs. “I was trying to figure out who cursed you,” he says, and Viktor goes still against him. “I have this theory that it all started with Douglas dying, and that it’s someone connected to him.”

“His girlfriend’s father publicly accused me of causing the crash,” Viktor says, his voice flat.

“I’m trying to find out who he is,” Yuuri explains. “But he’s hiding himself. And every time I get closer, I hit a dead end.”

“Mm,” Viktor strokes Yuuri’s ankle. “Is that what you’ve been doing all morning?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re working too hard, Yuuri,” Viktor admonishes him. “It’s your day off.”

“I’m not working out physically,” Yuuri counters. “I would spend my rest days doing homework when I was in Detroit.”

“So what everyone always says about Japanese people is true, huh?” Viktor says, and his tone is teasing. “You all really do overwork yourselves.”

“That’s unfair,” Yuuri grumbles. “It’s not a funny joke.”

“You’re right, sorry.” Viktor begins to rub at the juncture of Yuuri’s foot and ankle, slowly massaging it. “But _you_ certainly don’t know when to take a break.”

“What was that, then?” Yuuri asks, flailing an arm at his computer monitor.

“Venting,” Viktor says, snorting. “Good grief, Yuuri, what will it take to get you to loosen up?”

“Me finding out the identity of whoever cursed you and setting them on fire,” Yuuri grumbles.

“Setting them on fire?” Viktor repeats. “That’s a tad bit harsh.”

“Well, I’m angry at them. I’m allowed to be harsh.” Yuuri stretches, his back cracking a little. “They keep hurting you. They deserve to get their ass kicked.”

“Mm, my hero.” Viktor picks up Yuuri’s bare foot and plants a kiss on the top of it. “God, Yuuri, you really _are_ my knight in shining armor.”

Yuuri blushes. “Oh my god, Viktor,” he moans, covering his face with his hands.

“Hmm?”

“You’re too much,” Yuuri says, but he can’t help the fondness creeping into his voice.

Viktor chuckles, massaging up Yuuri’s calf. “I’ve heard that one before.”

Makkachin sighs, and Yuuri can feel her cold nose on his ankle. “We’ve been ignoring Makkachin,” he says, sitting up.

“Oh, no, we’ll have to take her for a nice long walk when it gets a little cooler at sunset,” Viktor says. “How about that?” He gives Yuuri a sweet, small smile.

“Mm.” Yuuri can’t think of anything he’d enjoy more.

-

At dinner, Okaasan presses a mug of tea into Viktor’s hands. “To help soothe your stomach,” she says pointedly. “Vicchan, I can’t have you wasting away.”

Viktor’s face freezes into a bland but pleasant expression, and he obligingly raises the mug to his face and takes a deep breath. “Smells wonderful, Mrs. Katsuki.”

Yuuri watches as Viktor takes a long, careful sip, and Okaasan beams.

“Thank you,” Viktor says, after swallowing. “I appreciate you caring so much for me.”

“Of course,” Okaasan says, patting Viktor’s shoulder. “You are important to all of us here, but especially Yuu-chan.”

Yuuri’s face goes red again as Okaasan bustles away, and Viktor looks at him.

“Especially, huh?”

“You already knew that,” Yuuri mumbles, and drags a giggling Viktor by the wrist into the dining room.

-

Viktor disappears into the bathroom after their meal, and Yuuri waits for him to come back so they can take Makkachin on a nice, aimless walk along the shore.

But Viktor doesn’t return for a tad too long, and suddenly Makkachin’s ears are up and her neck is stiff. She makes a high-pitched noise and darts out of the room, and Yuuri _knows_ something else has gone wrong. He follows after her without a second thought.

Makkachin is pawing at the bathroom door when he finds her, and he easily gets the door open to reveal Viktor retching into the sink. The white bowl is filled with what looks like gray muck, and it’s splattered on Viktor’s chin and around his mouth.

“Viktor!” Yuuri rushes to his side, but Viktor shakes his head. “Viktor, can you breathe.”

“Can breathe fine,” Viktor manages, before coughing again. He groans, his already-pale face even whiter. “I think I’m done.”

“What is this?” Yuuri asks, eyeing the contents of the sink with mounting horror.

“Whatever I had in my stomach just now,” Viktor answers, and his tone is one of resignation. “You wanted to know why I’ve not been eating.”

“Wh--”

“I think it’s kind of poetic,” Viktor adds, dripping with dark humor. He wipes at his face with the back of his hand. “Everything I eat turns to ash in my mouth, only now it’s literal.”

Yuuri swallows, his hands suddenly very numb. “Viktor, how long has this been going on?”

“It started up a little bit after your father put those talismans up,” Viktor admits.

“Viktor, that was weeks ago!”

“Yes, but… it wasn’t this bad.” Viktor turns on the sink so he can wash the mess away. “It was like before, like rocks in my stomach, and I thought, ‘I can just drink that medicinal tea and this will clear up’ but it didn’t.”

“Viktor--”

“It’s okay,” Viktor says. “I’m managing fine.”

“Viktor, you need to _eat_,” Yuuri points out, his anxiety ratcheting up again.

“I can’t, though,” Viktor says. “It’s all right, Yuuri. I’ve been slowing down on things, but I can still help you with your programs.”

“I don’t care about my programs, I care about your wellbeing!”

Viktor smiles sadly. “We both know I’m not going to be well anytime soon, Yuuri.”

Yuuri doesn’t know how to answer that, so he turns and leaves, and doesn’t stop walking until he finds himself in the street in front of the onsen. He starts running, then.

Like a coward.

-

It takes him a few hours to convince himself to return home. He feels like he’s got endless screams bottled up tightly in his chest, and as much as he wants to give in to the panic and tire himself out, scream out all of his energy, he knows it would be a waste.

Otousan catches him as he enters the building, switching out his shoes for his house slippers. “Yuuri,” he says. “Viktor came to us.”

“Did he tell you what’s been happening now?” Yuuri asks dully.

“Your mother tried to help using the same medicine from before, but…” Otousan, and Yuuri can see the frustrated helplessness in every line of his father’s body. “He had to spit it all out. I’m not sure how this is happening, I’m at an utter loss.”

“What about Oda-san?”

“Still no news from him,” his father answers. “I’m sorry.”

“So this is it?” Yuuri asks, feeling so much more powerless than he’s ever felt, even during that doomed Grand Prix Final. “He’s just… going to waste away?”

“We’re not giving up,” Otousan says. “Yuuri, just have faith.”

“I need more than faith.” Yuuri’s hands ball into fists at his sides, he can feel his shoulders tensing. “I need answers. I need _solutions._”

“Faith is the first step, you know that.”

“It’s not enough,” Yuuri says, and excuses himself.

He finds Viktor in his bedroom, Makkachin curled up next to her master on the bed.

Viktor looks up, and Yuuri gets the sense that Viktor had been expecting to be abandoned. “Yuuri?”

“Are you feeling okay?” Yuuri asks, forcing himself to visibly relax.

“Yes,” Viktor says, and honesty is etched into every pore on his face. “You always make me feel better, even when you’re angry at me.”

“I’m not angry at you,” Yuuri says. “I’m angry for you.”

Viktor’s eyes soften. “I appreciate it,” he says, smiling.

“It-- I’m not--” Yuuri grasps for the words, but they won’t come. “I want this to be fixed,” he finally says. “I hate feeling like I can’t do anything.”

“Yuuri, I’m telling you it’s all right. This isn’t on you.” Viktor pats the bedspread next to him, and Yuuri slumps and crosses the room so he can collapse down next to him. “You’re such a blessing,” Viktor goes on, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders and drawing him in close. “Not even six months ago, I had nothing, and now I have you. You’ve made these last few months wonderful, Yuuri.” It sounds like a last statement, like a final will and testament.

Yuuri feels a tear suddenly running down his cheek, and he hadn’t even realized he was crying. “Vitya--”

“I don’t think I’m… going to be able to survive too much longer,” Viktor says quietly. “I’ve been having these dreams, it feels like I have an expiration date on me.”

“Why haven’t you mentioned any of this to me?” Yuuri asks, his voice cracking.

Viktor shakes his head. “Because I didn’t want you worrying about me, when you have so much to live for and work toward. I didn’t want to consume all your time and thoughts when there’s nothing to be done. I think…” He sighs, presses his forehead to Yuuri’s temple. “I think I’ve come to terms with all of this, and you’ve given me the strength to face my end with dignity.”

“You’re not going to die,” Yuuri insists. “I don’t-- I won’t let it happen.”

Viktor smiles. “I’m telling you it’s all right.”

“It’s not.”

“I’m okay with it,” Viktor says. “Can you respect that?”

Yuuri can’t answer.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, and catches Yuuri’s chin with his fingers, tugging so that Yuuri is looking right into his eyes. “I meant what I said. You’ve saved me so many times, I will be forever grateful. I don’t think I’ll be able to repay you for what you’ve given me.”

“Keep living and that’s all I’ll need,” Yuuri says.

“Don’t hate me if I’m not able to,” Viktor answers. “I’m so tired, Yuuri. All the time. I don’t know if I can keep up with you anymore. I actually felt relieved when everything came out earlier, because now I don’t have to keep up an act.”

How much of the past month’s energy and enthusiasm had been Viktor’s attempts to keep up a masquerade? How burned out was he feeling now, after all of that?

Yuuri is starting to hate himself for not noticing, not knowing when things had started going wrong again.

“This isn’t your fault,” Viktor adds, correctly reading Yuuri’s face. “I chose to do this, it’s all me. This isn’t your responsibility, none of this is. You’ve already done so much.”

“I haven’t done enough,” Yuuri answers.

“Forgive yourself,” Viktor says. “The only one holding those feelings is you. I don’t blame you for anything.”

“You don’t still blame yourself for all of this, do you?” Yuuri asks. “For Douglas dying, and the accident. Please tell me you don’t.”

Viktor closes his eyes for a moment. “It was tragic, but I know it wasn’t my fault,” he says at last, looking up at Yuuri. “My heart went out to the families then, and it still does now. But I know now that I was never meant to carry that burden.” He smiles, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “So, I guess I’m free. And it’s thanks to you, too.”

Yuuri doesn’t know how to reply to that.

“So forgive yourself for me,” Viktor goes on. “I don’t want you carrying this burden now, because the blame doesn’t belong to you.”

“No,” Yuuri agrees. “It belongs to the person who started all of this.”

“If that helps,” Viktor says, because by now he knows that there’s no convincing Yuuri otherwise.

“It’s true.”

“Yes, yes.”

After a long time sitting together in silence, Viktor tugs Yuuri to his feet and pulls him out into the hallway, insisting on a quick soak in the hot springs before they both go to bed. He clings to Yuuri the whole time, cuddling up to him in the springs and immediately enveloping him in a hug when they’re freshly showered and settling into bed.

“Mm, you’re so warm,” he says, pressing his cheek to Yuuri’s chest. “I’m so glad I came here.”

Yuuri holds him tighter as Viktor’s breathing evens out and he slips into sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the sensitive: minor violence, mentions of a minor character's death near the end of the chapter

Even with the talismans on every doorway in the onsen, and the luck sachets, and every single homespun charm that Yuuri’s parents and sister can think of, Viktor continues to avoid eating. As the weeks go on, his sleep becomes fitful to the point that he wakes Yuuri up in the early hours of the morning, gasping and whimpering in his sleep.

Yuuri feels helpless as he holds onto Viktor until the other man wakes up, shuddering and clinging to Yuuri as if afraid he’s not really there. Yuuri can only whisper soothing things into his ear and run his fingers through Viktor’s hair, urging him back to sleep again. When daylight comes, he wakes up to Viktor watching him as if he’s trying to memorize every detail of Yuuri’s face.

A week and a half after Viktor’s latest incident in the bathroom, Yuuri is working on his free skate when he hears a loud crashing sound and stumbles on his jump combination. He skids to a stop and realizes that Viktor isn’t where he’d been when Yuuri had started up.

He looks up at the sitting area where Viktor had been watching him from - he’d been too weak to even join Yuuri on the ice in his street shoes - and realizes he can’t see the Russian skater anymore. “Viktor!”

He’s off the ice in seconds, not even putting on his skate guards, as he rushes over to where Viktor is sprawled on the floor.

“Sorry,” Viktor says, his words slurring, as Yuuri hurries to his side. “I got dizzy.”

“Of course you have,” Yuuri snaps. “You’ve barely eaten anything, you shouldn’t be out here away from home.”

“Yes, and leave you without someone to spot for you on your jumps,” Viktor shoots back at him.

“I could ask Yuuko or Nishigori,” Yuuri says. “Come on, we’re getting out of the rink.”

“This is the third time this week that we’re interrupting your ice time for no reason,” Viktor grumbles, but allows Yuuri to manhandle him off the ice.

“Your health is more important than my ice time,” Yuuri says, and it’s the third time he’s said that too.

It’s gotten to the point that Viktor can’t even drink water without feeling sick, but he won’t stay in the onsen, and he won’t let Yuuri keep him from overexerting himself. Today, he stymied Yuuri’s attempt to keep him at the onsen by getting up before Yuuri’s alarm went off and heading down to the rink by himself so he could get there first. He’s beginning to become more easily irritable.

Yuuri isn’t proud of it, but his temper is fraying as well. He’s trying to keep it under control but is having more and more trouble keeping his frustration in check.

“I’ll go sit down,” Viktor says. “Go back out there and keep practicing. I’ll even ask someone to step in, I promise.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “I wasn’t getting anywhere today anyway.” He’s spent the last couple of hours completely screwing up the beautiful choreography and flubbing almost every jump he’s attempted. He hadn’t gotten any sleep at all the previous night, and woke up to gouges in the wood of the outside of his bedroom door. For some reason, the talismans are beginning to wane in potency.

Yuuri doesn’t want to think about the dead girl standing over him and Viktor again.

Ten minutes later, Viktor is leaning heavily on Yuuri as they exit Ice Castle. Makkachin picks up her head as the door slides shut behind them. They take a seat on the steps, and Makkachin whines and puts her head in Viktor’s lap.

“She’s worried about you,” Yuuri says as he dials Mari’s cell number. Viktor is in no shape to walk home today.

“You’d take care of her for me, wouldn’t you?”

“I won’t need to,” Yuuri says as the line buzzes. “You’re going to take good care of her, because you’re her human.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor says softly. “Please, just for my sanity, you’d take care of Makkachin, right?”

_You **will** take care of Makkachin, right?_

Yuuri sighs. “Of course I would. But I won’t have to,” he adds again.

Viktor smiles and nods. He’s gotten what he wanted. “Thank you.”

Mari doesn’t answer, and Yuuri makes a frustrated noise. “What’s going on?” he wonders. “It’s a weekday, it’s not like the onsen will be overly busy!” He redials and Viktor slumps against him, letting out a soft exhale.

“If we need to walk back, it’s fine.”

“It’s too hot,” Yuuri says immediately. He’s already thinking… what if he tried to piggyback Viktor home?

_I’d overheat and exhaust myself,_ he eventually decides.

“If Mari can’t come pick us up, then we’ll have to walk anyway,” Viktor points out.

“Fine,” Yuuri says. “But we’re going slow, and if you need to rest then you _tell me_.”

It’s telling how exhausted Viktor is when he doesn’t argue. “Okay.”

Viktor clings to Yuuri as they make their way down the steps, Makkachin easily reaching the bottom before them and waiting for them at the base of the stairs. Yuuri had locked up their skating gear in a borrowed locker, because there was no way he’d be able to carry both gear bags home by himself and he was _not_ willing to let Viktor try.

Now, a good month and change since Viktor stopped eating regularly, his clothes hang off his frame in a way that Yuuri has never seen on another skater. Celestino had always insisted on his pupils being on proper diet plans, and had curbed several attempts at unhealthy eating habits that could have blossomed into eating disorders. Apparently, he’d had one of his students become anorexic on him at some point in the past, and he was determined to never allow such a thing to happen again. It makes Yuuri sick to see Viktor looking so unhealthy, but until they can figure out how to undo this latest twist in the curse...

They make it a quarter of the way when Viktor’s energy begins to flag, and Yuuri finds a shady spot for him to sit down and catch his breath. The summer has officially set in, and with it has come the oppressive Kyushu heat. Yuuri wishes desperately that the onsen could have gotten air conditioning installed, because there won’t be much relief once they’ve gotten home.

He’s fanning Viktor and thinking longingly of a cold shower when Makkachin begins to growl again. Viktor gasps and goes deathly pale, and Yuuri twists to follow his gaze.

The ghost girl has found them again, and all of Yuuri’s bravado and determination leaves him in one fell swoop as a nasty, terrifying grin creeps over her bloodied face.

The bottom drops out of Yuuri’s stomach. _Why is she smiling? How is she manifesting in the daylight?!_

She waves with her crushed arm and vanishes, and Makkachin’s hackles don’t go down.

“Wh-what’s happening?” Viktor asks, his eyes so wide that Yuuri can see the whites all the way around the pupils. “Why is she here in the daytime? Yuuri--”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri answers, because he doesn’t, and he can’t deny the terror that’s slowly taking over his conscious mind. He tries to call Mari again.

This time, she picks up. “Yuuri,” she gasps. “Oh my god, are you and Viktor okay?”

“Mostly,” Yuuri says. “What’s happening?”

“It’s like we got hit by some kind of poltergeist,” Mari says. “And Tousan says that all of the talismans have been blackened. Yuuri, is Viktor with you?”

“Yes, he’s here.” Yuuri’s heart is in his throat as his hand finds Viktor’s.

“Something’s changed, keep him near you. I don’t know what’s going on, but it can’t be good.”

Yuuri takes a deep breath in. “Mari, come pick us up. We’re just down the road from Ice Castle.”

“What happened?”

“Just come here,” Yuuri begs.

“Okay,” Mari says in concession. “Okay. Let me get to the car. I’ll be there soon.”

They disconnect, and Viktor looks up at him. The fear has ebbed from his eyes, replaced with some unreadable emotion that Yuuri doesn’t want to examine closely. “What’s wrong?”

“Dunno,” Yuuri says. “But Mari’s coming for us. Let’s stay in the shade.”

Viktor nods, and puts his arm around Makkachin’s chest and pulls her in close.

Yuuri stows his phone in his pocket and glances down the road, even though there’s no way Mari could be approaching by now. Is it actually a good idea for him to take Viktor back home when it sounds like all hell is breaking loose? The talismans have been taken out, that much is obvious. Someone is deliberately destroying all of the careful protections that have afforded Viktor the most basic comforts.

He looks at Viktor again, and the other man is leaning against his dog, his eyes closed. Makkachin pants, but doesn’t pull away from Viktor at all.

Yuuri squeezes Viktor’s hand, still clutched in his own, and looks back up at the road. A black sedan is approaching from the direction of the onsen, and he doesn’t pay it any mind.

At least, not until it pulls over on the side of the road - which is not legal in the area - and stops, the engine cutting out.

Yuuri’s instincts are screaming at him to get away, and he turns to Viktor. “Okay, we need to go,” he says urgently, and Makkachin is growling again.

“Who is that?” Viktor asks, confused.

“I don’t know, but whoever they are, they aren’t good.” Yuuri hauls Viktor to his feet and starts to pull him back up the road, in the direction they’d come.

Viktor curses and grasps onto Yuuri’s arm as he overbalances, probably dizzy, but doesn’t hinder their progress. Makkachin keeps circling around them, teeth bared.

Yuuri can hear a man’s voice calling to them, but he ignores it. Then, he hears the sound of shoes pounding the pavement. The driver easily catches up to them, planting himself in the middle of the sidewalk and blocking their way.

He’s a white Westerner, with sharp features and a bald head, of average height and weight. He’s dressed in a nice linen suit and seems vaguely familiar-looking, but Yuuri doesn’t care enough to bother with any of that. The expression on his face is not nice at all, and makes Yuuri’s skin crawl.

“So this is where you’re hiding,” he says, and he’s speaking English with an American accent.

Yuuri realizes that the strange Westerner isn’t speaking to him, but to Viktor.

Viktor looks about as confused and frightened as Yuuri feels. “I’m sorry?” he says, and his hands are shaking as he clings to Yuuri’s arm.

“I have to admit, your little disappearing act threw me for a while, but blood is blood,” the stranger says. “You couldn’t just do me a favor and go quietly in your Russian apartment? You had to come out to this backwater little town and _fight_ me?”

_Oh._

“You’re the one who cursed him.” Yuuri’s fear suddenly burns out, like a comet entering the atmosphere. It’s replaced with the anger that’s been simmering inside of him for a month now. “What, did you come to see your work in action?”

“Hmm?” The man looks him over, then dismisses him immediately. “Not even a fledgeling. Run along, boy. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Think again,” Yuuri says, his voice low in warning.

“I assure you that it doesn’t. Unless that was your family home I had to search,” the man goes on, and it suddenly makes a sickening sense.

“_What did you do to my family?!_”

“Nothing harmful or serious,” the man says. “Just a little chaos to flush out the rat.”

Yuuri grits his teeth and moves to block Viktor from the man’s sight. “You’re out of your territory. Just leave.”

“Or you’ll _what_, young man?” The stranger’s tone becomes taunting. “You don’t even look like you could charm your way out of a paper bag.”

Yuuri’s tempers flares, even as he realizes he’s outmatched. He doesn’t have the kind of senses that his parents and sister possess, the ability to read others for magical ability and _how much_. Even so, he can tell that this man is more dangerous than anything he could have run into on his own.

_Of course he was able to affect Viktor without knowing where he was._

“I’m only here for him,” the man goes on, gesturing at Viktor. “Just hand him over and I’ll leave you and your family be.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“There’s no point in protecting him,” the man adds, his expression dripping with amusement. “He’s at the end of the line, in terms of life-force. It won’t make up for Cady, but at least now she can linger.”

The ghost girl materializes between the stranger and them, and now Yuuri can’t deny the resemblance.

And then the man’s identity hits him. “Wait. You’re James Blackfield. The Wizard of Seattle.” _The technology guru? The wizard title was literal?? I didn’t know he had kids--_

“Yes, correct,” Blackfield says, eyes narrowing. “So now you see that I could destroy your life without even resorting to magic. Step aside, boy.”

“_No_,” Yuuri says, surprising himself but holding firm. “Take the curse off of Viktor and leave. You have no right.”

“I have no _right?!_” Blackfield laughs suddenly, a manic sound that frightens birds out of the surrounding trees. “That rat bastard robbed me of my only daughter, just like her mother had all those years ago. I was supposed to have more time with her, I found her and then _you_\--” he glares at Viktor, who has gone very still-- “_you_ had to go and ruin everything.”

“Douglas was the one who caused the accident,” Yuuri shoots back. “Douglas was the one who got drunk and crashed the car. I’m sorry for your loss, but Douglas being a sore loser is _not _Viktor’s fault--”

“But Douglas is dead,” the Wizard of Seattle interrupts him. “And you can’t take revenge on a dead man, especially since he wouldn’t be dead if it weren’t for _him_.”

“You are literally insane,” Yuuri explodes. “And you are _wrong_, and you can’t have Viktor!”

“Fine,” Blackfield says. “I see I’ll have to use force after all.” He raises a hand, and bats it to the side with a casual flick of the wrist.

It’s like someone whacked Yuuri in the side of the head with a hammer, and he’s thrown to the street, hitting the pavement with a gasp. Makkachin yips in fright and cowers, and Viktor is left out in the open.

“I’ll be merciful,” Blackfield says. “I won’t burn your family home to the ground after this, but keep this in mind the next time you defy a more powerful sorcerer.” And then he’s suddenly _right there_, kicking Makkachin aside and grabbing Viktor by the throat.

Yuuri rolls to his front, trying to get to his feet again, and then the ghost girl is in front of him. She reaches out with her good hand and presses his forehead down, and his elbows give way as she forces him back down to the ground. Her form feels almost solid--

“It is done,” Blackfield says, and the pressure on Yuuri’s head is released. Cady vanishes, and Yuuri hears the sickening sound of a body falling to the pavement. He scrambles back to the sidewalk, and Blackfield’s shiny leather shoes are all he can see for a moment before he finally focuses on the brightness of Viktor’s hair beyond them. He realizes, dully, that his glasses have shattered.

Blackfield snorts and turns, stepping over Yuuri to make his way back towards his car. “Today’s youths have no concept of propriety,” he grumbles as he folds himself back into the driver’s seat. The car’s engine ignites, and it pulls away from the curb.

Yuuri’s arms give out just short of reaching Viktor’s limp form, and Makkachin whines in pain from the grass next to the pavement. It feels like his hands are skinned, and his head is aching.

He hears the sound of skidding tires, and tenses for another encounter, but then he hears his mother’s voice shrieking in a way that he’s never heard before. Okaasan has always been quiet and soft, but now she sounds like a banshee in a horror movie.

“What the fu--”

“_Yuuri!_”

Rough hands roll him over, and then his father is kneeling over him, checking his face. “What happened, Yuuri?” He sounds frantic.

“Viktor, he got to Viktor--”

“Oh no,” Okaasan whispers. “Toshiya, I can’t feel any vitality--”

“God,” Mari says, sounding stunned.

“Call an ambulance,” Otousan orders.

“The-- it’s James Blackfield,” Yuuri says, grabbing for his father’s sleeve. “The man-- the Wizard of Seattle.”

“The billionaire?” Mari asks. “The guy who invented that shopping app?”

“Yes.”

“What about him?”

“He was here,” Yuuri coughs, because his head is still spinning and he feels like he’s going to throw up. “He’s the ghost girl’s father.”

“Oh, god,” Mari says again.

“Call for an ambulance,” Otousan repeats. “Mari, _call_.”

Yuuri feels a softer hand pushing the hair off his face. He tries to turn in his father’s hold. “Viktor--”

“We’re going to do our best, Yuuri,” his mother says, but he _knows_.

The Wizard of Seattle got what he wanted.

-

Yuuri drifts in and out of consciousness as the ambulance arrives, loading Viktor and then himself. Mari promises to take Makkachin to the vet, because at one point that was all Yuuri could beg for.

If Viktor doesn’t make it, then Yuuri already _promised_\--

He blacks again in the ambulance, and when he wakes up next, he’s in the hospital.

“Oh, thank goodness.”

“You’re awake! You little _shit--_”

Yuuri frowns, his thoughts scattered like broken glass after impact. “What--”

“Your father said you were jumped while walking home from the rink,” Nishigori’s voice said from his left. “You and Viktor.”

“By some foreigner,” Yuuko adds. “The police are looking for him now.”

“There was only one of him and two of you, why didn’t you take him out?”

Yuuri blinks in surprise. “Minako-sensei?”

“Of course it’s me!” Yuuri is shocked to hear tears in her voice as her blurry face swims into view. “What, did you think I wouldn’t worry about you? God, Yuuri!”

“I thought you were angry with us about Viktor,” Yuuri says, because it’s _true_.

“All of that pales in comparison to some asshole trying to get you killed,” Minako retorts, and Yuuri can feel her hand squeezing his arm. “You dummy.”

“What about Viktor?” Yuuri asks, and everyone falls silent. “I don’t care what you think of him, tell me if he’s okay!”

“He’s not,” Nishigori says bluntly. “He looks like he got stabbed, but they can’t find a wound. He hasn’t woken up yet.”

Yuuri tries to get up out of the hospital bed, but the others all push him back down into it. “Let me go, I’m fine--”

“You have a concussion,” Yuuko scolds. “Stay still, Yuuri!”

“Where are my parents?” Yuuri demands.

“They’re talking to the doctor,” Minako says. “I’ll go get them.” She disappears from Yuuri’s field of vision, and he slumps back against the pillows.

Tears, bitter and unbidden, spring to his eyes and he feels himself crumbling from the inside out.

“Yuuri…” Yuuko touches his arm, but he pushes her away.

“Leave me alone,” he grits out, and there’s a pause before he can hear the Nishigoris retreating from the hospital room. He buries his face in his hands as the door clicks shut.

He’s left alone to sob, tired and exhausted, until he hears his mother opening the door again. “Yuu-chan,” she says, and that just makes him cry harder.

“Kaasan,” he gasps. “I couldn’t protect him--”

“It’s not your fault,” she says, and pulls him into her arms. “It’s _not_ your fault.”

But Yuuri can’t believe that, so he just shrinks in her embrace and cries, helplessly, until he can’t anymore.

“Viktor is still alive,” his father says, and Yuuri doesn’t even have it in him to be surprised that his father had joined them without him noticing. “But… I don’t know what Blackfield did. There’s a some kind of emptiness in his chest, and there’s no wound, so…” He sighs. “I’m doing what I can to convince people it’s just some strange condition that they can forget about later, but I don’t know how to heal him, Yuuri. I’m so sorry.”

Yuuri doesn’t answer.

His parents don’t try to tell him that everything will be alright, or that he should hold onto hope. They know better than to try and placate him.

“Mari just texted,” Otousan says after a while. “Makkachin is going to be okay.”

So Yuuri could keep his promise to Viktor after all. _Silver lining_, he thinks bitterly.

“I’m going to check on Viktor again,” his father says, and Yuuri can hear his clothes rustling as he stands and lets himself out.

“My sweet boy,” Okaasan says softly, stroking Yuuri’s hair. “My sweet son with a glass heart.”

Yuuri closes his eyes, and soon drifts off again.

-

He wakes up again, and this time he’s alone, or at least he thinks he is.

“Hm,” says an unfamiliar female voice, and then a blurry figure is standing at the side of his bed. “Are you awake, Katsuki-san?”

“Mmph,” Yuuri says, and tries to roll onto his side.

“Now, now,” the woman says, and she takes a seat at his bedside. “Weren’t you angry earlier?”

“I don’t know who you are, but I want to be left alone.”

“Of course you don’t know me,” the woman answers. “For all you know, I’m just some random psychotic fan of yours that snuck into your hospital room.”

Yuuri closes his eyes. He’s too tired to care if anything else happens to him. “Mmhm.”

“But I know your parents. They helped me out a while back, and now is my turn to return the favor.” The woman touches his back. “I can’t go toe-to-toe with the Wizard of Seattle, but I think you can if you really want to. Especially if you embrace your emotions, Katsuki-san.”

Yuuri can’t move. The woman’s hand on his back is warm, like a bonfire in the middle of a freezing night.

“I give you the gift of Sight,” she says. “The gift of Truth and Knowledge, to do with what you please. If your intentions are pure and your heart is true, only good may come of it.” She stands. “Storm’s coming, Blackfield better hope he doesn’t get caught in it.”

She leaves, and Yuuri’s head feels clearer than it’s ever felt before. He sits up, and realizes that his vision is no longer blurry. He can see across the room, which he’s never been able to do before. And he feels coldly focused, like he does before he gets out onto the ice for competition.

He starts plucking the sticky electrodes off of his arms, swinging his legs off of the bed. He’s still wearing his workout clothes, thankfully.

The door pops open, and a nurse enters, frowning. “Katsuki-san,” she says. “You need to lay down, why are you taking the monitors off--”

“I’m fine,” he says. “Don’t worry about me.”

She stops in her tracks, blinking in confusion. “I… you’re--”

“I’m fine,” Yuuri repeats, and he locates his shoes, left neatly on the chair next to his bed. He slips them on, not worrying about socks, and brushes past the still-stunned nurse.

It’s like something is pulling him towards it, and he knows what’s on the other end of this strange summons. He walks past hospital staff, who either are struck dumb as he brushes them out of his way, or outright ignore him. He doesn’t encounter his parents, because he knows they’re trying to keep Viktor alive.

_Good._

Yuuri slips out of the building, and starts walking as the sky darkens overhead.

-

Blackfield is standing on the bridge that Yuuri runs across every day on his way to Ice Castle. He’s staring out at the sea, and at first doesn’t seem to notice Yuuri stalking up to him. Then, he turns and his eyes narrow.

“What do you want, whelp?”

Yuuri is tempted to suckerpunch him in the mouth, but he restrains himself. “Whatever you took from Viktor. I want it back.”

“Not a chance,” Blackfield says dismissively. “He doesn’t need it anymore. Has he died yet? He should, soon.”

“Killing more people won’t bring your daughter back,” Yuuri says, his voice harsh. “And you have no right to avenge her death.”

“I seem to have done so anyway,” Blackfield counters. “And frankly, you are only making things worse for you and yours. Don’t think I don’t know who you are now, Katsuki. Your family is marked, now, and I can make sure that your little hot springs business dries up faster than the Sahara in a drought.”

Yuuri laughs, a biting noise that he’s never heard coming out of his own mouth before. “You’re digging your own grave here. Don’t you know?”

Blackfield narrows his eyes even more.

“You’ve stirred up the powers at rest here,” Yuuri says, and he’s not sure where these words are coming from, but he knows that he’s right. “You’ve tipped the balances of nature, and of right and wrong. You’ve _screwed things up_. And now, the universe has to right itself.” He holds out his hand, palm up. “There’s no escaping your karma. Just give me what you stole, already.”

“What do you know of right and wrong?” Blackfield asks, his voice dangerously low. “You’re nothing but a child, a powerless one at that.”

“I’m not powerless,” Yuuri answers. “And I know evil when I see it.”

“I’m a grieving father,” Blackfield retorts.

“You’re a murderer.”

“I’m justified. We’ve been over this, boy.”

Yuuri’s lips twist into a sardonic smile. “You’ve literally lost your mind. There’s no reasoning with you, is there?”

“Now you get it,” Blackfield sneers. “Run along before I put you in your place again.”

“Where’s Cady at?” Yuuri looks around. “She’s nearby, isn’t she? Where’s your dead daughter, James?”

Blackfield bristles as Cady materializes next to him. This time, her body isn’t bloodied and crushed. It’s been reformed, and she looks healthy and almost alive.

Yuuri understands. “So you wanted his heart to keep her tethered here,” he says. He shakes his head. “Well, it doesn’t belong to you, and she belongs in the next life. Let her go, James.”

“Fuck off,” Blackfield hisses.

“Fine,” Yuuri says, and thunder rumbles in the distance. A raindrop splatters onto the ground in front of him, then another, then another. Then it picks up, and it’s very quickly pouring.

“This curse that you did,” Yuuri says. “It’s a blood curse, right? It only ends if one of two things happens. Either the cursed one dies, or the caster does.”

Blackfield’s face darkens, and he moves as if to attack.

“That’s a bad idea,” Yuuri says, and then there’s a _crack_ as lightning strikes the water next to them. The wind picks up, whipping the rain into his face, but he doesn’t back down. “You’ve already done enough, James. If you won’t learn, I’m not stopping what happens next.”

Blackfield spits a curse and charges forward, but Yuuri dodges with all the grace of a seasoned athlete. The foreign magician trips and skids off the bridge, falling to his knees on solid ground.

Yuuri draws up to Cady, who is now staring at him with the same fear he’d felt when she first appeared in his bedroom. He reached out to her. “It doesn’t belong to you, and you know it,” he says.

Cady shakes her head, her eyes wide. _I don’t want to die._

“You’re already dead, and Viktor is not.”

That simple truth is enough. Cady screams as her chest is torn apart, and Yuuri reaches out to catch the starlight teardrop that bursts forth from her. It pulses with warmth in his palm, and he wraps his fingers around it, pulls it into his chest. He can smell Viktor, feel the touch of his skin. The crystalline heart fades into his body, and he can feel its presence inside of him.

“You _bastard!_” Blackfield roars, and Yuuri ignores him as thunder rumbles overhead again. Cady disintegrates, unable to hold her form together anymore in the rushing wind. Yuuri hopes that she is whisked away to whatever afterlife she’s destined for.

“_How dare you--_”

Yuuri brushes Blackfield aside, turning to head back towards the hospital, and the man tries to grab for him.

“Maybe one day you’ll find her again,” Yuuri says. “In another life. But not this one.”

Blackfield screams, but then the sky tears open again. Yuuri can feel the heat as another lightning bolt shoots down from the clouds overhead, and doesn’t flinch as it strikes Blackfield right in the head.

He doesn’t watch the man die, because he doesn’t want or need to. He just keeps walking.

-

“_Yuuri!_”

He’s not surprised when his mother bursts from the hospital, looking harried. “Yuuri, where were you? No one knew where you went.”

“Blackfield is dead,” Yuuri says, and his mother stops in her tracks, eyes wide. “I didn’t kill him, but he died. Someone should go and take care of his body.”

“Where?” Okaasan asks, recovering.

“By the bridge. Take me to Viktor,” Yuuri says before his mother can ask anything else. “Please, I’m running out of time.”

Okaasan doesn’t question it for a second, but nods and leads him back into the building.

Viktor’s room isn’t in the same wing or floor as Yuuri’s, even though this hospital is local and fairly small. There’s probably talk of transferring Viktor to another, more well-equipped hospital. Yuuri knows there’s no point in that. Without his heart, there’s nothing that anyone can do to revive Viktor or keep his body functioning.

His own skips a beat in his chest, but that borrowed warmth is still there, and he lets himself into Viktor’s hospital room with one goal in his mind.

His father looks up at Yuuri from across the room, next to the window, where he’s probably taking a breather from whatever he’s been doing to keep Viktor breathing. “Yuuri?”

Yuuri doesn’t answer, just strides over to the hospital bed and looks down at the unconscious man within, a breathing mask strapped to his face and an IV drip inserted into his arm. Viktor’s forehead is clammy when Yuuri brushes his bangs off his face, but his skin is cooling. His chest is rising and falling slowly, like a windup toy that’s beginning to wind down. Yuuri’s eyes are drawn to the stain on Viktor’s chest, so dark that it appears almost purple. It’s bleeding through the cheap hospital gown that Viktor has been changed into.

Yuuri puts his hand over it, cool and slimy to the touch, but he knows that the bleeding won’t stop until the emptiness is filled. He leans down over the other man, studies his slack face as he pulls the breathing mask away.

Even on death’s doorstep, Viktor is breathtakingly beautiful; like a broken bird lying on the pavement in its final minutes.

Yuuri, in this moment, doesn’t much care for fragile beauty. He brushes his lips over Viktor’s as he feels the warmth within him transfer into his hand over Viktor’s chest. “Come back to me, Vitya,” he says, as Viktor shudders and suddenly inhales deeply, a shaking heave.

Viktor’s heart races under Yuuri’s fingers, steady and vibrant, as Viktor’s eyes fly open.

“Yuuri?” he gasps.

“There you are,” Yuuri says, smiling, and properly kisses him. Viktor goes rigid from surprise, but relaxes almost immediately, and clutches at Yuuri’s hand on his chest with both of his own.

“Oh,” Yuuri’s father says, and then there’s the soft sound of the door clicking shut as his parents leave them alone with each other.


	8. Chapter 8

Yuuri allows his parents to take him back to his own hospital room, but the nurse who checks him over is nonplussed when she finds that he’s no longer displaying any symptoms of concussion. They make him stay overnight for observation, and then discharge him in the morning. He immediately joins Viktor in his own room, and stays at the other skater’s bedside until the hospital closes for the night.

Viktor’s improvement is immediate and dramatic, as befitting of the man himself. His cheeks are rosy and his voice, while still a bit frail, is lively as he banters with the hospital staff in English with varying degrees of fluidity. He’s eating once more, with gusto. If Yuuri or his family need any proof that the curse has been broken, they find it in the fact that Viktor is happily inhaling bland hospital food with absolutely zero complaints. Yuuri just sits at Viktor’s side, smiling and letting him babble about anything and everything.

Minako, Yuuko, and Nishigori show up the day that Yuuri is discharged, eyes wide with sudden awe and brimming with somewhat awkward enthusiasm at Viktor’s sudden turn towards recovery. Viktor seems surprised at the sudden warm reception he’s receiving from them, but to Yuuri’s absolute adoration, does not bear any grudges towards them. He just beams and rolls with the sudden attention.

The hospital has an utter laundry list of maladies that they’ve discovered hampering Viktor’s health, from being underweight to having low electrolytes, but his prognosis is optimistic. He’s responding well to the minimal treatments, the doctor says, and will most likely be able to return to the Katsuki family home for the rest of his recovery very soon.

Yuuri’s parents are still not clear on what happened the day that Blackfield confronted them, and Yuuri isn’t entirely sure himself. The next morning had dawned with him needing his glasses again, and no longer in that calm, unperturbed mindset of someone who knows everything. Whatever gift his mystery visitor gave him had worn off, probably meant to be temporary. Yuuri is happy with this, he doesn’t think that he wants to know the truth about _everyone_ he encounters. He’s happy to be unremarkable, regular old Yuuri.

In the quiet moments with Viktor, they end up entwined with each other, Viktor seemingly needing to soak in as much of Yuuri as humanly possible. Yuuri keeps telling him that he won’t be going anywhere far, but Viktor just clings to him and smiles.

Yuuri, of course, doesn’t mind in the slightest. For once, he doesn’t feel the urge to escape back into isolation, feeling more at ease with Viktor’s hand in his than he could have ever imagined. The worst parts of his day are being shooed out of Viktor’s room when visiting hours end, but he doesn’t have an official reason to stay with Viktor overnight. So, he goes home to the onsen and tries to get back into a regular routine. He keeps up with conditioning just a little, so he doesn’t lose any gains, but he knows that nightly workouts aren’t a replacement for the intense regimen he had before, and he knows that he needs to get back on the ice again. He just can’t bring himself to do it without Viktor there.

After a week of observation and steady improvement, Viktor is discharged from the hospital and sent back home to the onsen. Makkachin, whom Mari had taken home on the same day that she’d gone to the vet, immediately livens up after spending the preceding week moping around and crying for her human. She refuses to leave Viktor’s side, and stands guard over him when he sleeps.

During the week leading up to Viktor’s homecoming, Yuuri’s family had been forced to overhaul the onsen in an effort to tidy up after the poltergeist attack that they now knew was Blackfield’s doing.

In that vein, Okaasan gets a call from Oda-san, who reports that the strange illness in his town has finally been eradicated and all victims are making full recoveries. _Of course_, Yuuri thinks, _of course Blackfield somehow managed to affect that._ It isn’t surprising, according to Otousan; Blackwood has posthumously been revealed to be incredibly paranoid, utilizing his scrying powers to spot threats before they manifested both in the magical world and in the non-magical one. Of course he would have spotted a respected cursebreaker and ghost-banisher close to the target of his curse. Of _course_ he would work to make sure that Oda-san would be unable to travel down to Hasetsu.

_Good riddance._

The day after Viktor comes home, a representative from the taxi company he’d hired back in _April_ shows up on the onsen’s doorstep, looking sheepish. They’d discovered Viktor’s luggage, and were willing to bend over backwards to make it up to him for losing it. That afternoon, the manager of the hotel who had refused to give Viktor his room called Viktor’s cell, frantically trying to fix the strange technical error that had resulted in Viktor’s card being charged a _lot_ of money. Yuuri negotiated a total refund on Viktor’s behalf, only barely keeping himself from being snide as he reminded the manager of the desk clerk’s treatment of their guest, and the way the manager himself had acted towards Otousan. The refund takes forty-eight hours to process, but Viktor gets his money back.

Viktor’s phone is constantly ringing now, and Viktor changes his voicemail message to one explaining that he’s currently recovering from a serious health issue and is unable to answer, in both Russian and English. He then puts the phone on silent and ignores it, preferring to instead focus on regaining some of the weight he’d lost over the past couple of months. He’s still shaky on his feet, and Otousan manages to find a weathered old cane for him to use. Slowly, he starts to get his mobility back.

The Nishigori family and Minako are constant visitors, Yuuko and the triplets insisting on helping wait on Viktor during the days where he’s not well enough to move around himself. Nishigori similarly assists Viktor in moving around, providing a steadying arm and a shoulder to lean on when Yuuri is pulled away to help in the onsen.

Minako bows into a full _dogeza_ in apology for her behavior towards Viktor, all those months ago. She bursts into tears when Viktor sincerely forgives her and tells her that he holds no grudge. She also apologizes profusely to Yuuri and his family, and gives Yuuri unconditional permission to use the studio again after hearing that they’d resorted to using the banquet room instead and reacting in horror when she realizes that Yuuri has been doing his dance conditioning all under self-direction. Okaasan laughs as Minako vows, completely sober, to make up for her actions by taking over Yuuri’s conditioning once more.

Of course, Yuuri couldn’t care less that he and his family are being repaid and compensated for the previous months. He’s just happy to have his friends back to normal.

Yuuri’s childhood bedroom starts to fall into disuse as Yuuri begins to spend his nights in the banquet room with Viktor and Makkachin instead - Viktor had been set up in there again on the futon, and the futon is marginally bigger than Yuuri’s bed. It only makes sense.

Slowly, Yuuri’s things - his tech, his shoes, even some of his clothes - migrate into the makeshift guestroom. Yuuri finds himself going back to his bedroom less and less, except to get new summer clothes as the weather gets even hotter.

Like Makkachin, Yuuri very rarely can be persuaded to leave Viktor’s side. Even though he knows that the curse is broken and truly gone, he can’t bring himself to leave Viktor alone. Viktor in turn complains that Yuuri is neglecting his skating, and this time Yuuri completely ignores him in favor of continuing to bask in Viktor’s continued presence in the world.

The Nishigori triplets very quickly shake off the awkwardness that their parents can’t seem to move past, and constantly mob Viktor for stories about his skating career, and stories about Russia, and photos and selfies and attention. Viktor doesn’t always have the energy to indulge them, but he tries as best as he can.

It’s through the Nishigori family and Minako that Yuuri finds out about Viktor’s reputation’s miraculous recovery online. He’s been avoiding social media, and so has Viktor, so neither of them have seen the sudden explosion of interest in where Viktor has disappeared of to, what happened to him, and _why_ had the entire skating world turned on him all of the sudden last winter? Someone manages to get ahold of his personal cell phone number so they hear his voicemail greeting, and when they report it online the news spreads like wildfire. A sudden outpouring of love and support and get-well wishes flood Twitter and Instagram and other social media sites, as reporters and journalists desperately try to figure out where Viktor is.

Viktor doesn’t care. He confesses to Yuuri that the thought of everyone suddenly loving him again, suddenly apologizing and sending him well wishes, it makes him feel sick. “I know it’s childish of me,” he says, “but I can’t forget how many of these people were the same ones who said such cruel things before.”

Yuuri can’t blame him, honestly. He agrees and together they log out of all of their social media accounts, so they can have some peace and quiet.

Eventually, Viktor is able to get around on his own with the help of the cane, and insists that Yuuri go back to working on skating again. The Nishigori family trades off driving duties with Mari, shuttling Viktor back and forth, while Yuuri starts running to Ice Castle in the mornings to begin working on _Agape_ and his free skate again.

It takes him a few days of intense run-throughs to get his comfort back with his programs, but he falls back into the beautiful routines that he and Viktor have worked so hard on. This time, with Viktor looking on from the seating area and Yuuko on hand to spot for him, Yuuri attacks his programs with a ferocity he hasn’t felt in a long time. He starts seeing progress with his skating, and Viktor offers enthusiastic feedback and helpful critique for every step of the way.

It’s one of these days, when Viktor is rinkside with Yuuko, and Yuuri is working on _Agape_ again, when Nishigori bursts into the rink, looking a bit shell-shocked.

“You will _not_ believe who just walked in our front door,” he says, as his daughters’ screaming can be heard in the lobby.

Yuuko frowns as Yuuri fights down a panic attack. One glance at Viktor reveals that he’s showing no sign of what he’s thinking, but Yuuri is confident that his mind has gone to the same place as Yuuri’s; _how? _It’s been weeks since Blackfield has died, so _what now?_

Then a gruff looking older man shoulders his way into the rink, followed by a familiar blond boy. _The Russian Punk_, Yuuri remembers, as Yuri Plisetsky’s piercing green eyes lock onto him and he bellows, “_what the fuck is this?!_”

“Yura,” the old man snaps, and Viktor goes very still, his face pale.

“Vitya,” the old man says, his English heavy with a Russian accent, and Yuuri suddenly realizes who this guy is - it’s _Yakov Feltsman_, Viktor’s former coach. “Vitya, there you are. What are you doing out here?”

“Yakov,” Viktor says, and Yuuri can hear the tremor in his voice. “You stopped taking my calls in December.”

Yuuko and Nishigori exchange terrified looks, and Yuuri moves to exit the ice and grabs his skate guards off the bench nearby.

“I… I’m sorry,” Feltsman says, his face carefully blank. “I don’t know why I did such a thing. It is clear that you did and have done nothing wrong.”

Viktor makes a sound like he’s trying not to burst into tears. Yuuri draws up next to him, this time on the other side of the boards, and puts his hand on Viktor’s arm. He can feel Viktor relax, just a little.

“Come on, Viktor!” Yuri Plisetsky shouts, his loud voice echoing sharply around the empty rink. “You promised me a program, did you give it to _him?!_” He points furiously at Yuuri, who feels strangely cold and distant in the face of such fury.

“You wouldn’t talk to me,” Viktor reminds him. “You didn’t want it.”

“So you gave it to _him?!_”

“Yes,” Viktor says, and his spine straightens so that he’s standing at his full height. He’s leaning heavily on the boards behind him, his cane leaning against the bench next to him.

“How dare you!” Plisetsky yells, and now he sounds like a petulant child.

“Well, I can’t skate it,” Viktor says in a reasonable tone. “I was banned from competing. Who else would have wanted a program I choreographed?”

“You’re no longer banned,” Feltsman says. “I went to the Federation. They agree, and so does the ISU; you were not at fault for that American skater’s accident, and you should never have been banned from competing. You shouldn’t have been prevented from skating in the Grand Prix Final, either. You’ve been seeded for this season’s Grand Prix series.”

Viktor laughs, a harsh-sounding noise that makes Feltsman flinch. “I’m in no shape to compete,” he says. “I can’t even stand upright without a cane, Yakov.”

“What the hell happened to you?” Plisetsky demands, looking him over. “You look like a skeleton.”

“You should have seen me a few weeks ago,” Viktor says wryly. “I was even worse off. Ask them,” he adds, gesturing at Yuuko and Yuuri.

Yuuko nods helplessly, but Yuuri doesn’t break eye contact with either of the newcomers.

“He couldn’t even sit up,” Nishigori says.

“Why?” Feltsman looks horrified. “Vitya, what in the world happened in these past few months?”

“I was dying,” Viktor says, and he slowly reaches up to take Yuuri’s hand in his own. “I _wanted_ to die. Yuuri saved me, and now I’m getting better.”

Plisetsky’s eyes flick from Viktor’s face to Yuuri’s, his mouth flapping but no words coming out.

“That-- that’s good,” Feltsman says, his own gaze fixed on their joined hands. “Very good, Vitya. And it was kind of you to help out a struggling skater.”

“He wasn’t struggling,” Viktor says, squeezing Yuuri’s hand. “Just needed someone to help him see his own potential.”

Yuuri blinks and finally looks at Viktor, who seems to glow with something softer and brighter than anything Yuuri has ever seen before in another person.

“That’s… very kind,” Feltsman repeats. He seems uncomfortable. “Vitya, if you’re unwell… perhaps it would be best if you were to return to Russia with us in order to recover.”

The Nishigori family all gasp as Yuuri’s blood runs cold. _Viktor… go back to Russia?_

“No,” Viktor says. “I’d rather stay here.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Feltsman frowns at such a blunt refusal.

“I said that I want to stay here,” Viktor says in a patient, slow voice.

Plisetsky seems struck dumb, but Yuuri’s heart is soaring. _He wants to stay here!_

“Viktor, if you want to have a hope of returning to skating, we have to begin preparing right now,” Feltsman says, sounding a bit frightened.

“I don’t want to return to skating,” Viktor says, and he falters. “I… all of figure skating threw me away--”

“They all regret it,” Feltsman insists, his eyes not leaving Viktor’s face. “So many people have contacted me, begging me to pass along their apologies. My office is overflowing with gifts and fanmail. The Russian media is in a frenzy, the whole nation misses you, I’ve heard from Cao Bin and Christophe Giacometti--”

“I-- I can’t go back,” Viktor’s hand begins to shake, and his throat bobs as he swallows. “I _can’t_, Yakov. It hurts too much.”

“Nonsense,” Feltsman says. “Vitya, it’s all in your head. We’ll get you a good counselor, get you into physical therapy, you’ll be feeling like yourself again soon enough.”

Viktor laughs again, and this one is absolutely heartbreaking to hear. “Oh, Yakov, you don’t understand. I feel more like myself right now, even like this, than I ever felt when I was at the top of the skating world.”

Feltsman doesn’t seem to have an answer to that. Plisetsky, on the other hand, is boiling over like a teakettle.

“So you want to stay in this middle-of-nowhere town in a foreign country?!” he demands, his face going scarlet. “For _him?!_” He jabs an accusing finger at Yuuri again.

“With him, yes,” Viktor says. “He makes me happy. Is this a bad thing, Yura?”

Plisetsky lets out an animalistic growl, appropriate enough as he was wearing a truly worrisome amount of cheetah print.

“Vitya, you’d be throwing away everything you’ve worked so hard for,” Feltsman tries again. “Your career--”

“Is tanked,” Viktor says. “And all my sponsors have dropped me. There’s no way I can possibly get in healthy enough shape to compete this year, Yakov. I think at this point, the best I can hope for is to tour with ice shows, maybe next year. But in the meantime--”

“In the meantime, what?” Feltsman demands. “What will you do for income? What will you do with yourself? You are incapable of being idle, Viktor!”

Viktor blinks. “I-- I’ve been working with Yuuri--”

“Charity,” Feltsman says, and Nishigori bristles behind him. “Viktor, there’s still a chance to salvage your career.”

An idea strikes Yuuri like lightning on a clear day. “No,” he says, startling everyone. “He can’t leave yet.”

“Why is _that_, piggy?” Plisetsky sneers.

Yuuri looks right at Viktor, right into his eyes. “Because he’s my coach,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Viktor’s eyes are wide with childlike wonder.

“Be my coach, Viktor,” Yuuri says, turning them both so that they’re facing each other. He takes Viktor’s other hand in his free one, and leans forward so that their noses are inches apart. “Stay here in Hasetsu and be my coach.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor breathes, his lips curving into the shyest, sweetest smile Yuuri has ever seen. “Of course I will.”

“You have no experience in coaching!” Feltsman says, looking like he’s been struck in the face with a two-by-four.

“He has enough,” Yuuri counters. “He’s gotten me this far. I think he can take me all the way to the Grand Prix Final.”

Viktor is grinning now.

“Gross,” Plisetsky mutters, but Yuuri ignores him.

“Well,” Viktor says, turning back to his former coach and his former rinkmate. “I think that settles it. I’m staying here with Yuuri.”

Feltsman just stares at them, utterly dumbfounded. “You’ll regret this,” he finally warns Viktor, before turning on his heel and stalking out.

Plisetsky stays a little bit longer, his face belligerent. “I’ll beat you,” he says, eyes locked onto Yuuri’s. “Even with one of Viktor’s programs, I’ll beat you. There can only be one Yuri on the podium.” He stomps a sneakered foot before turning tail and storming after his coach.

“Was… was that a good idea?” Nishigori asks. He looks completely shell-shocked, and that expression is echoed on the rest of his family’s faces.

“It’s the best idea anyone has ever had,” Viktor declares. He lets go of one of Yuuri’s hands to suddenly reach around and grab Yuuri’s ass. “Now get back out there onto the ice and go through that jump combination again, I want you landing that quad sal before the month ends.”

Yuuri’s face is bright red at the goosing, but his heart is singing as he slips his blade guards back off and takes to the ice once more.

Now, bathed in the bright sunlight streaming in through the skylights, the ice still mostly freshly smoothed around him, with Viktor alive and getting better and healthier with every passing day, Yuuri feels like only wonderful things are waiting for them both in the future. Only wonderful, beautiful things to come for them.

And he can’t wait to meet all of those things at Viktor’s side.

“Again, Yuuri!” his new coach calls.

With a smile, Yuuri launches himself into the air.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's the end!
> 
> Here's my obligatory mental health support bit: if you are experiencing depression, anxiety, or any other mental illness in whatever form it may come, please don't be afraid or ashamed to seek out assistance or treatment. This story was written to show how sometimes we need help from time to time, and that there is always someone out there willing and able to give it. Support each other, because sometimes we can't make it alone.
> 
> There's no official soundtrack/playlist for this story, but I listened to Icon For Hire's _You Can't Kill Us_ and _Still Can't Kill Us_ albums, and Tonight Alive's _Underworld 2_ album.
> 
> Maybe, if I find the energy and inspiration, I'll write out a few shorts of what happened after the end of this fic; Viktor reconnecting with his friends and the people from before the curse, Yuuri's second Grand Prix Final, etc. At the moment, though, I want to return to my other ongoing fic _Saltwater Melodies_ and start prep for another Big Bang that I'm in. Feel free to check those out as well!
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/LinneaKou) if you ever want to chat!


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